Rosalie Morris
poetry, travel, family
poetry, travel, family
On The Road
Driving across Montana
with my father.
Watching the land
go by.
He tells me
the Latin names of some plants.
Holodiscus Discolor.
I tell him
about the night I got drunk on cosmopolitans
and started a food fight.
Lemon Meringue Pie.
The Virgin Mary stands
on a mountain top,
watching over a small mining town. She
smiles and waves as we drive past.
After fiddling with the dial
for the longest time, I find
a profound radio station.
It plays
punk rock and doo wop from the fifties.
Driving across Montana with
my father.
It’s a big state.