Troy 41

Driving southward, Iowa to Missouri,

Troy (pop.12,079) is 41 miles away.

Rust brown brush spreads along the roadside.

On the hills, grass the color of dried blood.

I pass rocky bluffs, streaked and broken,

Like old cathedrals.

 

On the radio, classical music and jazz

Turn into country and talk.

These are the days of battles and shadows,

One station tells me,

These are the days to make Him strong.

Troy is 22 miles away.

 

Further south, fog settles in,

The road in front of me disappears.

I drive into it, 9 miles left to Troy,

Namesake of a fallen city,

Only clouds like smoke, or drifting ash

In sight.

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