It’s Vast by Peter A. Witt

Francisco Huerta

It’s Vast

Driving from Houston to Amarillo
leaving the traffic of I10, the cities
and the suburbs, to enter
the Hill Country, with its rolling
landscape, gullies created
by the runoff from a torrential
downpour, a few cattle per acre,
searching for something green
to chew, and the black vultures,
mile after mile of black vultures,
circling overhead for something
dead.

Then it's the open landscape
with the occasional city or town,
some still alive, one just a post office,
others, a gas station, a barely surviving
store, and houses left to the forces
of wind and rain before they
fall in upon themselves.

Somewhere along the way, I stop
to use the bathroom at a country store,
one toilet, in need of cleaning,
a man sitting behind the counter,
as if he hasn't moved for years,
but up for a friendly how's your day.

Purchase a stale coffee and chips
and I'm on my way, as the sun blinds
the windshield and I get ready
for three hours of headlights,
dodging jack rabbits,
and the sound of the road
rubbing against my tires,
as Willie sings about country
roads and going home.

© Peter A. Witt

Peter A. Witt

Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet and a recovering academic who lost his adjectives in the doldrums of academic writing. Poetry has helped him recover his ability to see and describe the inner and outer world he inhabits. His work has been twice nominated for Best of the Net. He also writes family history and is an avid birder and wildlife photographer.

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