Joe’s Run

The turn is hidden in a thicket of trees,
the sign announcing Joe’s Run Road tilted on a crooked post.
A hickory tree droops large-leaved branches and drops nuts
that get ground to powder in the fall by cars and trucks driven
by those who know how to find this narrow track.
Sassafras digs its fragrant roots into the roadbank;
wild phlox, geranium, larkspur, violets line the ditches in spring,
and in hidden hollows wild ginger, bloodroot and gingseng mingle
with mayapple; graveyard vine’s green-black leaves
provide a carpet for showier plants.

Should you meet another vehicle on the road
find a place to pull off and let it pass.
Always wave, whether or not you know the passing driver.
Chances are you will.

About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
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3 Responses to Joe’s Run

  1. Libby says:

    Another gem, so delightfully descriptive. I like the idea that you will know any passing drivers.

  2. literata72 says:

    Thank you for your vivid word-paintings! One of the things I loved when I moved to West Virginia from Illinois was that everyone waves, even to “outsiders,” and “outsiders” quickly learn to wave. Sans the technology, it still feels like 1975 here.

    • grannysu says:

      Thank you for commenting! I moved here about the same time as you, from northern Virginia. I’ve never looked back. This place felt like home as soon as I got here.

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