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Daralynn M. Bradbury


Dawson Creek, British Columbia, CA

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Daralynn M. Bradbury

Yellow and white painted lines
Splitting the earth
Atop a black crust
Racing beneath the fiberglass horse
Of leaky pipes and soft wheels

Stealth creatures hidden in burrows and dense bush
The hind-legged creature sure to invade their home
Evidence clear of these invaders
Is sight and smell of rest stops and diners...
An unforgiving invitation

But lonesome and desolate
Quiet and closed in
By the solid rock fortress
To deter the non-resident
And strike fearful alien inspiration
Into the cement dwellers

A private and ancient world
Where only the bravest thinsulated thrill-seekers -
Their back packs brimmed
With plastic bottles
An abundance of supplies to sustain...
Confidently bypass these walls

A challenge somehow they find
A form of solace and union
Bold and defiant
Comparing infantile strength
With awe-inspiring power
Parks, trails and walkways
Are created and maintained for their comfort
Frequented on vacations once a year

The regular boast of ‘roughing it’
Make the rivers laugh and the coyotes howl
Mist topped mountains are shaken
By those that lived the land
And died by the hand of it
Turning in their unmarked graves
At these modern adrenaline driven warriors

This easy access entry calls for
The protective eye of the men with uniforms
Yellow and white painted lines splitting the earth
To keep nature safe
From the very creature in pursuit of it

Sacred ground where this horse is not welcome
Within the peace of the rock walls
That stand effortlessly but relentless
Offering a mere glint of secrets
Rejecting the need for protection
Knowing its’ long peaceful past
Had no need of protection
Our resource allowing entry -
The Highway.