Adventures of three sisters in route to Hilton Head Island

A travelogue of sorts in blank verse

We set off on our yearly sisters' trip
in Honda hybrid. Baby sister, soon
to hit the 60 mark, behind the wheel.

Another sister riding in the front,
and eldest--moi--at 15 years beyond
the driver, settled in the back. In route

to Hilton Head we were, to meet the sib
from DC, who drove down another way.
(Of course.) A thunderstorm dumped tons of rain

on Mississippi's highway. Knuckles white,
our driver and the navigator eyed
the fog line, flashers blinking, searching for

a car's lights up ahead. The truckers passed
as if to say, 'Get over it and drive,
you wimps from Arkansas!' At length, the storm

abated. "Whew!" We all relaxed a while,
deciding we deserved a shopping break.
At western edge of Tupelo, we stopped

and asked directions, soon espied the place.
The first booth, first glance at the books, I saw
a title, Liberating Paris, and

it's autographed by Bloodworth Thomason!
I wondered why the "Becky" gave it up.
Then farther on, I found a Cape Cod plate--

a pie plate--unlike any I had seen.
The others came out empty-handed. Rain--
or shower--in the meantime, cooled the air.

TO BE CONTINUED