Traveling Alone - James Schaffer

Mist settles upon crescent margins of rippled valleys

as the nascent dusk crests hillsides swept with budded grain.

Yellow blades stretch atop roads cutting through forests,

and leaves from recent storms litter their edges.

How you’d love to see these places,

but they escape through the cracked windows

where air twirls like tangling ivy

and slides along shallow country slopes.

Pillaring light extends through parted clouds

and gestures lambent fingers towards flowing fields.

Breezes twist between arms of sugar maples

as croons of mourning-doves diminish.

How I’d love to share it all with you,

and dance as shimmers along a river’s surface

where voices blare through wind

but have momentarily softened.