Sunday Drive Poem by Robert Charles Howard
Sunday Drive
The southern Missouri hills
roll along the interstate
where the Mastodon and Clovis used to roam.
Former green is current orange
but green will reign tomorrow.
The wheels on my ivory Stratus
spin like the hands
of a fossil fueled watch keeping time
over all that is or ever was -
shining and waning
through tinted windows
between the dawn and setting sun.
January, 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/19/2024 11:51:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
