A Founder's Run

by Glenn Currier

Waiting at the light assaulted
by the noise of a garbage truck
a teenager thumping so loud it hurt my ears
a fire truck racing to a rescue

I looked up, noticed the street sign
and smiled at the irony.
Who and what intersected here
to drive the naming of this road?

One evening, another bad crop loomed.
Full of dread he'd lose his daddy's land
the dying farmer's son stripped to the waist
ran with abandon flailing his arms
shouting his angst to the darkness.

Spent of his fear
he loped the dirt path
breathing in the sweet scent of cedar
lifted his eyes to see the moon
and heard its silver beamed strains.

He looked down at the moonlit rutted path
a soft note of hope stirring within
he visioned his neighbors running with him
and knew then - together - they would make a life
connected along that Pleasant Run.


Author's Note:

Sitting in the Whataburger on Pleasant Run Road, a main drag in my town of DeSoto, TX, I wondered how the road got its name. I looked around the restaurant and saw older people, folks of diverse backgrounds, and fancied myself asking them what they thought about the naming or name of this road - which I have always liked since moving here more that 30 years ago. Being interested in forming a poetry society here, I had a conversation with the public library director and presented an idea for a poetry project around the paired words: pleasant run. She loved the idea and thus was born the "Pleasant Run Poetry Write." If you are interested you can read about it on my website: http://toCreate.net

Posted on 10/16/2010
Copyright © 2020 Glenn Currier

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 10/17/10 at 09:49 PM

What a grand idea! Trust the poetry project works out very successfully. Fascinating tale for the naming of the road.

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 10/21/10 at 07:02 PM

here is to the success of that great concept of yours, which is not likely to fail, given it has at its helm, the one and only Captain, the Poet, Glenn, and given Glenn is at the helm what a ride it should be and wonderful trip which is not likely to shoal but bowl o'er the poetic soul.

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