The Dreaded Darwin Road

First miles leaving home,
last miles coming back,
once gravel, now paved,
ices quicker,
drifts deeper, clears slower,
than any other road,
runs seven miles through beauty.

Spring greening,
teal and mallards waddling,
turkeys strutting,
red-winged blackbirds singing from reeds,
plowed fields and ponds alive with promise.

Summer growing,
an eagle soars and
a red-tailed hawk perched on a road sign
watches the hearse go by.
Corn grows
knee high by the Fourth of July,
higher yet, until
a person could get lost in the fields,

Autumn glowing,
geese honk high,
rooster pheasants parade roadside,
seagulls follow the plow.
Trees turn gold,
fields to sere stalks, then stubble.

Winter freezing,
crows complain,
deer ghost through fields at dusk.
Frost, snow, silver
trees, fields, ponds, roads.

Call ahead:
is it icy? drifted? plowed yet?
that dreaded Darwin road
to home.


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