They come here in October like barn swallows plumed in blue scarves flying in black Mercedes on their yearly migration to locations south. In the winter, the locals are out; pickup trucks and sedans smolder along back roads empty of strangers though they pass through on interstates craning their necks out windows onto the fringes of our world. For three seasons we gather at churches and meeting halls in our little town without fanfare. Yet there are signs of the invasion on billboards and on brochures advertising to tourists. The difficult fate of the rural town. A cappucino maker appeared one day in the local gas station beside the cash register. When the trees show their first tinge of copper coinage the maples and oaks burst forth in their fiery protest flaming their final breaths. Then the strangers clot the roads drifting by in their waxy black cars having stolen the wind from the north. Leaving footprints on private land, the oil of imported cars permeates the mountain air. ~Rae Carpenter
Very evocative lines…. In their ‘waxy black cars having stolen the wind ….’
Dr. Rae, I was just tuning in to your twitter posts this morning and this evening looked and it says ‘this account doesn’t exist’ …. Are you setting up a new one? Your posts are always valuable so this was a disappointment!
Will you update us here on your writing blog then? Thank you and warm wishes.
Like the.line about the cappucino maker :) As an English/Irishman with family all over the States, I have often daydreamed about visiting small town America & you capture this perfectly. Lovely poem. Thankyou, Rae. 🙏✝️
Beautiful poem, Dr. R. It reminds me of Woodstock, Vermont, where tourism is massive there during fall. My family and I happened to be there to look at a law school, and the town was “clotted” with tourists from New York and elsewhere, in their expensive foreign cars. The towns were very poor. The contrast was just as you poetically depicted it.
Very evocative lines…. In their ‘waxy black cars having stolen the wind ….’
Dr. Rae, I was just tuning in to your twitter posts this morning and this evening looked and it says ‘this account doesn’t exist’ …. Are you setting up a new one? Your posts are always valuable so this was a disappointment!
Will you update us here on your writing blog then? Thank you and warm wishes.
Like the.line about the cappucino maker :) As an English/Irishman with family all over the States, I have often daydreamed about visiting small town America & you capture this perfectly. Lovely poem. Thankyou, Rae. 🙏✝️
Beautiful poem, Dr. R. It reminds me of Woodstock, Vermont, where tourism is massive there during fall. My family and I happened to be there to look at a law school, and the town was “clotted” with tourists from New York and elsewhere, in their expensive foreign cars. The towns were very poor. The contrast was just as you poetically depicted it.
nice.
Your pic is the Viaduct on the Parkway - like 1/2 mile from my house!
Makes you feel like you're there....
Wonderful, Doc. 🥹