Going Home

While riding home after a visit with our daughter last August, I was moved by the sights we passed on the highway, and was inspired to write a little poem.

The asphalt ribbon lies ahead,
Mile upon country mile.

Field and sky melt together,
On the distant prairie horizon.

Pumpjacks bow toward the earth,
Urging the ground to surrender its treasure.

Crops of canola, sunflowers, and grain,
Lift their golden heads toward the sun.

Rail cars await the prairie bounty,
To share with neighbours far and wide.

Weathered barns sag, abandoned,
Left to rot in the sun, wind, and rain.

We pass these familiar scenes,
As we make our way home.

Our prairie home.

8 thoughts on “Going Home

  1. Pumpjack? Is that what I call a “nodding donkey”? I liked seeing them when we were driving out your way, sometimes with pronghorn wandering amongst them. To my mind these are iconic images, and your words conjure up more memories (to me, at least) of an alien but intriguing landscape.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Spectacular photos, Candice! Especially the different skies in each. I love your poem, as well. When we used to travel across country (from the Deep South to California), we passed hundreds of oil pumps doing their business. Now they’re museum fodder. Too bad.

    Liked by 2 people

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