The Road Home
The road winds
molding to the curves of the land
like dark ruffles on a lover's favorite dress
The hills embrace the rocks
hard against their gently draping
skirt of yellowed grass
As the sun sets
the orchid clouds stretch tight across the sky
ready to burst at any moment
A lone tree reaches upward
toward the shattering stars
and rising moon
The windmills turn
winding back the hours
pulling you closer to me