Red Roads
I know I’ll never have time
to walk them all, but no matter:
wild roses or Queen Anne’s lace pressing in
from the ditch, maples or birches arching
overhead, splintering shards of sunlight
onto baked-hard clay, curved or slicing
straight through the body of forest,
it’s the same road, same system of vessels,
same heart – arteries taking me away,
veins bringing me home.
Jeannie Prinsen lives with her husband, daughter, and son in Kingston, Ontario, where she does copyediting for a local news outlet. Her writing has appeared in Barren, Relief, Juniper, and elsewhere. She can be found on Twitter at @JeanniePrinsen.
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