Dirt Road Heritage Society

Amazing, how from practically across the country a vague teasing thought struggles through everyday activities and 

well oiled routine, 

flirts in between children wanting attention;

 collides with decisions. 

By it's constancy, adjustments to ever more appropriate subjects; 

attitudes not quite so assuming and matters less intrusive, 

are forced, reluctant, self controls. 

 Quiet moments present themselves -

 but there it is like a smug Buddha niched in the stillness,

 startling meditation into moods more tremulous. 

 Somewhere along the way, 

perhaps one of those hot dirt road days or 

a pious-lonely studious moment 

i may have forged .. and became ... an ideal, 

and it chimed, 

sustained its note for so long that

 this inner siren tune has sung me saturated 

like burning pigment; 

pure vein exposed under Time's erosion 

slashed through Fate's dullish ore of days 

that have ground by, 

of years gritted through 

thinking to have abandoned youth 

back behind on the road

 along with certain other dreams .

 o' youth 

when we were young 

there were princes and princesses, 

our shy beauty shone .

These roads and their dust have entered since, 

they have cracked delicate flesh and 

coated all fresh lusts with travel grime. 

Years have grizzled delights 

just short of cynical, 

despite this 

faithful aged delusions have me still penning drivel and 

i can do nothing about it but 

resign myself to the inspirational merit, 

resist the urge to wonder what it is 

that has endured along with my wunderlust;

 hang out the washing to dry and 

renew my subscription to the Dirt Road Heritage Society.