Traveling eastward on highway 13, passing
uninhabited-it seems- railroad tracks
and quaint white churches, steeples
humbly making signs of the cross.
Looking down at her black skin wondering,
Why not one white church is followed
by a single colored one…Hmm?
was it god's design or man's...white churches,
colored churches...Hmm?
The poetic architect quickly dismantles such thoughts...
centering her mind on nature's creation:
The brown cones dropping of
trees, needles dropping of pine
brown grass dead asleep
on the ground, as evening
progressed, we pressed on
leaving life in winter-wonderland
Passing by red, green, and white illuminated homes;
luminous reindeers and round-belly Santas,
Seeming to announce a Ho, Ho, Ho, and a Merry Christmas!
Unawakening the sleeping children in the back.
We continued eastward…
Merry Christmas everyone!
December 27,2007
Almedia Knight Oliver
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/highway-13/