In which we celebrate Saturday Stories : Directional Poem

Directions to the Farm

Get into your efficient shiny city car
Stickered with pithy city wisdoms, and drive
into the biggest traffic jamnation you can find.
Inch between delivery vehicles with your AM Radio
keeping you alert, the shrill insistent messages drilling
essential information and the essential advertisements of impending crisis.

Keep driving.

When the grim grey streets beside the freeway
Start to give way to gentler, greener places wandering away to parts unknown,
take the off-ramp.

Your radio station gradually changes
The syndicated city cynicism fades
The speakers play somebody’s mama twanging a banjo and
Humming a bluegrass tune.
You join in on the chorus, although
You’ve never heard the song before now.

Re-fuel at the gas station that also sells coffee and fresh eggs
and worms,
The attendant may greet you and show you the poster on the
Cash drawer: the local theater group performs tomorrow; her daughter
Is in the show. Maybe she’ll see you there, that would be good.

Roll down the windows. Hang your hand over the warm car door.

Loosen your collar.

Breathe the odors of animals and strawberries.

When you pass the combines harvesting hay and your cell phone battery sputters out,
turn and come up the road
to the farm driveway.

Open the gate, and roll down towards the house.

Park next to
An old farm truck, faded now.

An old farm cat naps on the sunny truck hood
Opens one tawny eye to say hello.


  1. Excellent directions — i feel like I could find it!

  2. LOVE love love love love THIS!

    Have you gotten it published? Oh you really should. You painted a perfectly understandable picture with your descriptive words.

    I felt like I was shedding the stress of the city right along with your driver in that shiny car, and I don't even live in the city anymore. I would have to read your poem in reverse. hehe!

    But this is just terrific! Thanks for sharing.



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