The Meadow

I once dreamed 

of being a shining city on a hill,

or at least a super highway

cutting through the still

countryside, heading for 

all places exotic or mysterious:

New York, Chicago,

or even LA, I guess.

But it didn’t turn out that way.

I’m no posh hotel with indoor swans,

or an upmarket restaurant that serves

caviar and prawns on fancy dishes,

yet wishes it were some cheap

roadside attraction like the

World’s Largest Frying Pan

or Barnacle Bill the Muffler Man,

or even a corner taco stand.

No, I grew up to be

what was just right for me:

an endless meadow

covered with wildflowers,

keeping watch over the universe

while dancing with the wind.