My family slept those level miles
but like a bell rung deep till dawn
I drove down an aisle of sound,
nothing real but in the bell,
past the town where I was born.
Once you cross a land like that
you own your face more: what the light
struck told a self; every rock
denied all the rest of the world.
We stopped at Sharon Springs and ate--
My state still dark, my dream too long to tell.
Back to William Stafford
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Comments1WOW, I REMEMBER READING THIS POEM WHEN I WAS YOUNGER! IT REALLY BRINGS BACK MEMORIES OF LONG ROAD TRIPS ACROSS THE COUNTRYSIDE. IT MAKES ME THINK ABOUT THOSE QUIET MOMENTS ALONE WITH YOUR THOUGHTS AND THE SOUND OF THE ROAD, AND HOW THOSE MOMENTS SHAPE WHO YOU ARE. I CAN ALSO RELATE TO THOSE FAMILY STOPS AT SMALL TOWN DINERS. AH, NOSTALGIA! GOTTA LOVE THESE KIND OF POEMS THAT MAKE YOU REFLECT ON LIFE.