Everyday drives through fog or sun
To work or school or errand runs
Past neighbor’s dogs and Pacific blue
With him or her or the two of you
Don’t seem to mind the silly rhyme
Because rhythm alone can pass the time
And long, slow drives along Highway 9
Help distract the troubled, worried mind
from labored thoughts and growing fear
And nothing done in the name of grace
Will save mankind from its awful fate
But driving along the Redwood route
Might quiet the hype and media angst
And remind us of that peaceful place
Where love unfolds, expanding space
Giggling kids, and rhubarb pie, and
“She’ll be comin’ round the mountain”
til we die
.
Word Play 