My new road atlas
 
waits for me to mark it up
 
for summer’s last trip.

 
 

On a bright June day
 
the road spirits keep calling:
 
“Follow us away!”

 
 

The open road calls
 
a few weeks after Easter—
 
I unfold my map.

 
 

On a narrow road
 
a few weeks after Easter
 
sorrow calls my name.

 
 
 

Without meaning to,
 
I take the wintry road home,
 
much to my delight.

 
 
 

midsummer delight—
 
taking a long, slow road trip
 
without knowing where

 
 
 

Annoying setback—
 
while starting a spring road trip,
 
my GPS fails.

 

 
 
 

A doll with no eyes
 
lies beside a lonely road,
 
punished by spring rains.

 

 
 
 

Leave the gate open
 
as you set off down the road—
 
the wind will close it.

 
 
 

Unlocking the gate,
 
I head for the open road—
 
my feet are my map.