Ode to a Road

This column first appeared on Sunday, Dec. 2, 2007.

While taking in the sights and sounds of Old Fashioned Christmas in West Chester Friday evening, it occurred to me that although there have been literally dozens of Christmas carols written for our listening enjoyment, there are exactly no poems available to those of us who want to sing the praises of state Route 926.

Forgive me, but that’s the way my mind works. You do not even want to know what occurred to me after taking in the sights and sounds of the Phoenixville’s Blogfest.

In order to correct that situation, I hearby submit the following, “Ode to a Road.”

926! 926! 926!
Your lanes cross open fields.
And the homes that dot betwixt
All bear security shields.

We adore your wooden barns
And landfills named SECCRA.
And across from Landhope Farms
A chiropractic Mecca.

Oh, your ponds must have toads
And your pastures fine horses,
And round about Lamborton Road
There’s room for golf courses.

Springdel and Chatam and 841
Post a speed limit 45.
But squinting at morning’s new sun
On you at 30 we drive.

Your balm of Friends Meeting,
London Grove, is like talcum,
Owning much to the greeting
First Day School, “All Welcome.”

We think as New Bolton nears
“With joy must come woe.”
And then we raise up our beers,
And toast Barbaro.

It’s the watershed of Red Clay
That get’s us to thinkin’
Where will come the day
You’ll be a highway like Lincoln?

For although your number
Is more than 30 times as sweet
We can’t help but wonder
Why this road’s name is “Street.”