Jul 18
poem challenge: Freedom

a mountain town

the creaking of the car 
reminds me of snow-trodden
highways
and wind that burns your face.
log cabins 
and grey lakes
are too bittersweet 
for my taste.
towering pine trees
and crackling fires
grow from my empty thoughts

though i don't want them to.

dusty valleys 
and jagged mountains. 
there can never be enough
shallow lakes 
circled by green reeds,
which dogs can trample
in an instant. 

the sky can be clear and blue

but then the first wave 
of black clouds rolls over,
only sprinkling a few drops. 

and then they’re gone. 

did you know that towns can be filled with
stories?
there's the man who plays piano
at the old italian restaurant,
who always wears brown suits 
and a bowler hat. 
there's the war veteran 
who has a small dog
and takes it with him 
to the town square.
there's the mayor's wife, 
who always wears jeans and a flannel. 
there’s the orange-haired 
woodcutter who lives in
a log cabin that he once built. 

i write their stories in my dreams
while the creaking of the car
rocks me to sleep
and wind burns my face.