On each side of the country road
Lean tall old trees far into their shadows
And you feel a desire to turn off
Into the landscape of yourself,
To the end of a road that never ends…
And all that solitude yours.

Go deeper, to where fence posts end,
Beyond the rusted out car
Idling in a wilderness of vines,
Where farm land becomes meadow and woodlot
And the meadowlark is a clear song
Of space and light.

There the footings of a house
Fill with field grass and flower
Like a house built by rain
And shining through itself
A wild barn becomes a holy place.

The deep rustling of the trees
And swaying shadows on the road
Call us from our destination
To a landscape beyond highways
And the nowhere of being lost.