It is motoring meditation
Along the rutted back roads of my Virginia homeland.
Handlaid rock walls and split-rail fences
Lace the boundaries of historic farms and country estates.
Songbirds — blue, red and yellow — dart like rainbows
Across the road and zigzag trees thick with greenery.
Buddha cows wade through the velvet of belly-deep grass,
While weathered farmers practice the Zen
of John Deere and Toro.
Proceed with caution: Suburbia ahead.
Barbara L. Steinberg