Drive to remembering

A thirst lingers even when the rainy seasons fall.

A thirst for old ways that seem to be eaten by the rusty splinters of time.

Injected with the last breath, tree gives way to steel, steel gives way to silicone.

I sometimes get in my car and drive as hard and as far away as I can, where stories still linger in old dusty corners, and the quiet nod of the neighbor is the loudest conversation heard all day.

I drive until beauty overwhelms my senses, pull over and exhale. I drink in the mists, eat the landscape, and remember how to pray.

Photo: Willapa Hills | © H a v e n

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