I have this driveway, long and worn
the rain has its grudges
as do my feet

I feel every piece of gravel under me
every pot hole
every twig from the walls of dying trees

I pass the engraved dragon, a displeasure for drivers
I dodge the craters where meteors fell
And finally reach the ant-infested mailboxes
the small, moss-covered bench
the out-of-place boulder that fits so appropriately

This is my reality in the morning, my journey
my pilgrimage to the outside world