Its a sleepy day today the sky is dusted with bullet smoke and powdered sugar. The barren trees rigidly shake their long white fingers. raking the sky. We travel down Acorn road. Passing an old decrepit barn, grain feeder and haybales. We pass an abandoned bus surrounded by angry cedar trees that needle the sky with their thorny arms. patches of chartreuse grass dot the countryside little mishaped blots of rainwater gather. More abandoned farm houses. Rows of cottonwoods with a creek winding alongside A weathered barn-red fence stretches across the lonely hills. We've reached a Junction. -Margaret Crownell
It needs a teeny bit more, though - it's a bit too committed to what it is, a ride down a road. Needs a bit more of the allegorical element suggested in the "bullet smoke and powdered sugar" and the "abandoned bus."
The poem's last line is almost determinate enough to take the reader into that realm on its own, but...not quite.
If that doesn't make sense...I want to see my own specific "critical junctions" in the words and images, and I almost do, but I still need just a little more of a booster from the text to tell me I'm not taking that journey alone.