The old red road lies waiting
in the glow of morning hours
Serpentine and verdant
from yesterday's evening showers

Tunnel like it's canopy
Birch and Maple spread their leaves
Sunlight poking through the trees
In finite hues of forest greens

Bright red clay turns to brown
as water disapiates from ruts
Etched against a shallow grade
By some old rusty pick up truck

Rabbit racing in the night
They seldom veer from beam to beam
We follow slowly in their wake
Moonlight flickers through the trees

The red road has it's secrets
Some it shares and others not
Haunted wood that tell no tale
In one peculiar spot

But it likes to share it's road side spring
and beauty is a healing thing
Time moves on in memory
In my old Appin dream