I-81 through the Shenandoah Valley, VA, March 2009
Mountains pass namelessly on the east and west, rising in and out of a tattered mist. I straddle the asphalt in a ’92 Volvo, fixed in a transient environment. This is the valley of the Shenandoah. Mean have died here, long ago. They are gone now. The road makes its way through me. I remain. Soon the valley is gone like the men that died there.