How many times have you stopped by a roadside stand to admire their offerings? This poem hails back to childhood road trips and roadside stands.
One of many road trips
We again find ourselves here.
In one place or another
They all feel like home.
Freedom from back seat imprisonment
We jump at the opportunity.
Anxiously waiting for the car to stop,
We throw open the door.
Roadside stand, handwritten sign
Fresh Produce For Sale
Multi-colored nutrition of all shapes and sizes
On one rickety table
Deliverance in the form of a shade tree
Always close by
Rusted truck bed loaded with watermelons,
Not too far from a vat of boiling peanuts.
Mason jars aligned and stacked,
Those windows to prisms of sugared glory,
Competing with bottles of cane syrup
Standing tall, ready for duty.
Sacks of grits lean askew
Assured of their staple status,
They need not be called to order.
But the sweets,
Oh the sweets!
Call us to heaven now.
Rock candy and peanut brittle battle
In a candy land delight
Saltwater taffy pulls our soul
Do we have to pick only one?
Stickied fingers and colored tongues,
We reluctantly submit to our demise,
Several more hours car-ride.
Until we meet again
Roadside stand
Fresh Produce For Sale
And freedom,
If only for a while.
留言