Outside Butler, Missouri

On the road to New Haven,
We stopped by a station, and mom
Took me from my book.
It was making me miss the view.

People were the same
As the ones in the other stations,
Doing what they came to do.

That book won’t change, she said,
And leaned back into the road
Until we stopped again.
I finished it later, much later.

I had read things I never had
Until they were not new
When the mountains were blue.