To Sister’s House
With a beautiful landscape flickering by like a slideshow out of the car’s clear window.
Roaming past rows and rows of luscious green grass and crowds of corn fields.
With Dirt raining down on the pick up trucks and cars of the nearby homeowners like confetti at a parade.
To sister’s house.
Where earth’s cologne swims in the open air.
and the odors of the farm animals and their manure dance in your nose and shimmy down your throat.
To sister’s house.
Where the horses strut down the empty, gray runway along with the cars.
And the diesels pass through to get to the highway and the tractors pass by to get to their dairy farms.
To sister’s house.
A place of earthy familiarity that has become foreign to the new city girl.
Amie the Author. 