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.


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