Treasure Island

Sara Fielder


A Sunday Drive


Texas billboards wound my eyes
Every mile apart.
They lure the cars on 35
To burgers and gas marts.
But as I stretch my vision down,
The line of road ahead,
They're nullified when soon I spy
A mass of flower beds.
They aren't the kind that Granny's find
And plant from catalogs,
Always a disappointment when
They bear no fruit at at all.
No, these are weaved among the weeds,
Along the roadside ditch,
They're wildflowers consisting of
Milk thistle perched by finch.
Their purple orbs tall ornaments,
Protruding, taking cue,
From all the yellow yarrow that
Contrasts with robin blue,
That's crowded thick among the mix,
And craves all the attention
The blue bonnets that sit like hats,
On stems that aren't worth mention.
And like the bush twas burning on
The mountain of Sinai,
The paintbrush named for Indians
With their head dresses thrive!
And as my mind reflects upon
This flower popping power,
I never even notice that
the drive lasted for hours.

Submitted: Monday, May 13, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, May 14, 2013

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  • Smoky Hoss (12/16/2013 10:16:00 AM)

    Beauty, unsuspected, found in the midst of a dusty landscape, how perfect. Wonder is always there, if only we open the eyes-of-our-heart to see it. Very good poem! (Report) Reply

  • Thomas A Robinson (5/22/2013 2:25:00 AM)

    Drove across Texas.? More than hours!
    Always a drive across Texas leaves one full of comments.
    Flowers yes but I would think that they were just one of many things you could have commented on.
    But you choose a paintbrush made of camel hair words and across a.page splash
    away so we are now aware. (Report) Reply

  • Ace Of Black Hearts (5/13/2013 7:46:00 PM)

    Beautiful Poem, flowers are always better then billboards stacked along the roadside. Advertisements that are unavoidable distractions, yet it is not where the eyes look yonder? Doesn't that make you wonder, what is it they are truly accomplishing. (Report) Reply

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