The Spaces Between

Listen to the lone wolf’s howl
The Road is her home,
And her soul,
Scattered across the state.

Her family’s fated path led a direction
She could not follow,
Since the dawn of her birth
She leapt into the life
Of the lonesome road.
Traveling many miles
Across dust and concrete
To feed her addiction for open spaces.

The cactus and tumbleweed
Are her family,
The city signs and overpasses
Are familiar friends,
The showers of rain
Renew her spirit,
And the blankets of endless galaxies
Remind her that she is not alone.

Oasis communities along the way
House families of gypsies and vagabonds like herself,
They play their guitar and banjo, they sing their road-song
‘Round the ancient campfire, with it’s stifling cider smoke
And flaming arms reaching up towards the heavens,
The singer lets out a howl to mother moon;
She is home.

But no sooner has she reached a destination,
Does she flee, off into the night again
For her comfort is not found in each new place,
But in the spaces between.