Rusty windmill

Smiling at the geese

diverge on the highway-

A faded emerald sign- Route 23

Frost sits on top of scissors of grass

Like a diamond ring on an elderly finger

My breath freezes in the air

A lingering echo

Frail brick houses

on an empty road- Route 23

Freezing steam erupting from the volcano of rock

Wooden posts stand guard- like soldiers in a nonexistent war

New England towns

Racing by

As I canter along

The bumblebee asphalt of

Route 23