I am not sure really how Google’s mapping GPS works.  It usually gives me the most direct and quickest route to my destination.  On my way home last night, I received directions that could not have possibly have been the quickest most direct route.  Instead it meandered through a series of back hill streets and that allowed me to see raccoons and deer and really, it was awesomely charming.   I think maybe there’s a human element behind the GPS and whoever that element is has keyed into my need to find the beautiful things right now and allowed me to see parts of Indiana that I would have totally missed following my own devices.  I owe much gratitude to this be it a human looking in and saying ..”nah this way instead…” or be it some kind of glitch.  It was a wonderful drive.

Indiana Back Hills
by Michael Doyle

The pleasure of Indiana back hills
Explored as it were on four wheels
The twilight begins to close the sun's eyes
Until tomorrow brings its sunrise

The shadows from the trees grow long
And I'm right here where I belong
Except for the lonesome of being without you
Today and tomorrow roll right into view

Here as Indiana falls to its night
And I capture this with last light
A good kind of tired fills my bones
Except for the part of being alone

Moon rises and night begins to unfold
As a weary raccoon starts to cross the road
I slow down and smile into his mask
Wishing I could maybe stop and ask

All of his secrets from this growth of trees
What might he whisper on the cool breeze
Secrets unseen at headlights' blind
Among the unexpected things that I find

Too busy looking through my rearview
Looking back as I too often seem to do
Until the moment catches me in a smile
Burning down that back road's endless mile

All the signs track as I quietly read
That all that surrounds me is what I need
Maybe Indiana is all I need after all
I take that thought in as the rain begins to fall

It's somewhere in the all too near
Feeling another angel let loose in tears
A memory that takes me always to there
As two angels will probably always hold me here

(c) June 25, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved