The Middleness of the Road

I have traveled for more than 14 days upon the open road, and you with me in your mind’s eye. Yesterday, I shared my midpoint observations of people striving to be happy. Now, as I head briefly south, then west across our vast nation to my Utah home, I would share a morning discovery from my beloved book, The Poetry of Robert Frost. It is so relevant to me as I journey forth. Let me share…

The Middleness of the Road

The road at the top of the rise
Seems to come to an end
And take off into the skies.
So at the distant bend

It seems to go into a wood,
The place of standing still
As long the trees have stood.
But say what Fancy will,

The mineral drops that explode
To drive my ton of car
Are limited to the road.
They deal with near and far,

But have almost nothing to do 
With the absolute flight and rest
The universal blue
And the local green suggest.