Hello Friends,

I have returned to the land of the living, feeling much better from a week of Covid, about 90% so. I’m still taking it easy because Covid isn’t meant to be taken lightly. But I’m grateful to feel human again. I’m sharing a poem I wrote from one of our day trips with our daughter in Tennessee. We visited The Natchez Trace Bridge, which I will share photos and a piece of writing (in progress) a little later. But the poem today is about our drive along The Natchez Trace Parkway. A brief history is also included.
I hope you enjoy the journey…

The Old Natchez Trace – pulled from the National Park Service

The Old Natchez Trace is one of the oldest transportation routes in North America; its human use dates back 10,000 years. The Old Trace consisted of a network of trails. For centuries, American Indians traveled and traded along this corridor, which traverses the homelands of the Natchez, Chickasaw, and Choctaw nations. The parkway is a 444-mile scenic drive that connects Nashville, Tennessee to Natchez, Mississippi.  It’s a National Scenic Byway and All-American Road that’s open to motorists, hikers, and bikers year-round. 

The Natchez Trace Parkway

The tires roll on the graceful parkway
flanked with thicket of forest on both sides.
My imagination turns whimsical where
fairies, gnomes, and unicorns coexist
within the density of the woodland.
I exit my tenacious thoughts stirred from
world events, and I revel in wide-open spaces
and a vast valley that continues forever.

Hemlocks, maples, and pines dot
small sections, and I delight in leaves
skipping across the road, letting the grass
catch them in soft embraces.

Our car leapfrogs with a lone cyclist,
but you wouldn’t label our journey a race.
It is a gift to savor where the clock
does not personify a dictator.

My eyes watch butterflies ride the gentle
breeze and crickets hop among the myriad
of greenery. A smile finds its way,
and I am lost in the wonder of every living
creature and how each feels about
our presence in their homeland.

Autumn ensures her presence to come
with hints of golds and crimsons.
I can almost smell the cinnamon.
I can almost taste the pumpkin.
What a delicious season to welcome!

When we reach the end, I direct my
mindset to remain in such a magical state
because not only am I in the best company
of two loved ones,
but my mind and soul feel exhilarated
to release heavy cargo.

Instead, after leaving the heavenly national park,
I find it meditative to observe a man with silver hair
contained beneath a ball cap,
sitting in his chair on his massive, mowed lawn,
simply watching the grass grow.

Let us all immerse into the tranquility of stillness
where time is nothing but irrelevant.

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

Thank you for stopping by, and have a wonderful week!
Lauren 🧡🍂🍁