Upon the mountain's way,
Through Clark's Valley lay
The reservoir to my right...
The trees like a prism,
Pink, red, orange, yellow, green.
We stopped at a Diner,
With 1950s Music playing.
Yet, the people, nay, the people,
Were like none from that time.
Artefacts of a rich time
Were upon the wall in black and white.
Yet, there was a newness there...
Something new, yet it was right.
The woman sent me away,
After paying our customer fee...
Yet, the cost was a little costly,
$16.57 a plate you see.
The preacher on the way home
While I listened in the car,
From getting my good tea
I wandered very far.
Three hours we drove,
To see the autumnal leaves.
Yet, the preacher preached
"Beelzebub is a better god than unbelief."
I saw then, as I drove from my work.
Witnessing all, I saw it from mountain to brook.
For two people at a diner,
$16.57 a plate, that was it took.
I question, the people are very queer...
Hard faces, all at war,
Yet there are some who are good.
We huddle together, as little chicks in a nest.
Mother Hen, come shield us with your best.
3 hours I witnessed, as cars drove madly wrong,
Passing us in the left lane,
Where the divider line was long.
My mind goes back to the preacher,
Saying, "Beelzebub is better than unbelief."
I think of the radical Atheist, and I think of even me.
Would I rather them believe in nothing?
Than a god of torture, theft and crime?
Certainly, so I feel it is the times.
A Mountain Drive
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