White and whispy
They floated upward
From the horizon
Into the wide blue-
Like doves, with wings
Spread wide
Their numbers,
Infinite –
The worries holding my heart
Began to fade-
Not entirely disappearing
But loosening their grip-
It’s funny how peace
Occupies the most
Curious spaces
And requires
Only a small
Measure of time
Before offering relief-
I may have been driving my car
But it was the clouds
That carried me home
Tag: driving
Worth Repeating
Their design was clear
Visual perspective
Undeniable
High to low
Largest to smallest
Right in front of me
Moving in the same direction-
Of course, their presence was
Fleeting, as we were
Traveling at different speeds-
Me, driving down a
Straight-shot highway
Speed controlled by my foot
On the gas pedal
The clouds, stair-stepping
Their way from the heavens
Down toward the Earth
Speed controlled by the wind
Their design was clear
Visual perspective
Undeniable
Expecting Unexpected
Morning drives
Typically, uneventful
Leave at a certain time
To arrive at a certain time
The same certain time every day-
Despite the routine
Most days my heart hopes
For the unexpected
And when it appears
It is always in the same spot
How does that still count as unexpected?
Grazing quietly
In the field
Looking up quizzically
As I drive by
Or hopping through the grass
Showing off fluffy white tails
Any number of soft brown deer
Passing on a surprised smile
An audible gasp
Pure unexpected joy
Another poem from a recent poetry circle. ❤️
Simply Sunday
Good for the Soul
Evenly spaced rows
Of gently waving wheat
Wonderfully wound
Bales of hay
Equally sided cubes
Childhood toys
Labeled with letters,
Numbers and pictures
Ready to be
Neatly stacked
Then knocked over
Only to be
Stacked again-
Little hands reaching
Sleepyhead resting
On my shoulder
Comforting weight
Beneath the rise and fall
Of sweet slumber-
Calm exists within
The routine
On any given day-
Whether passing by
Or sitting in the center
Lessons in Unity
Colors fly past
My periphery
Golden browns
And burnt oranges
Sewn together
With threads of
Yellow and green
A heavy quilt
Covering the cold
Winter ground-
Tiny feathered creatures
Rest within the soft
Patchwork
Until ready
To announce
Their presence
Rising and falling
A mesmerizing
Magic carpet
Murmuration
All moving
Together as one
Driving Home
Parallel lines
Well-planned grids
Built to intersect
And connect
It all sounds
So logical
Like tracing
A map with
My finger
While my eyes
Follow along-
But one glance
In any direction
And all of the
Straight-line logic
Melts into a sphere
And I am surrounded
By earth and sky
Peace and hope
Past, present, and future
How is it possible?
Sensing the vastness
Of this universe
While driving down
The highway-
I don’t know how
But it happened to me
On a Tuesday
Simply Sunday
Term of endearment
With many versions
Each one chosen
For any variety
Of reasons
Each one spoken
For any variety
Of emotions
No matter the age
Sometimes
A girl needs
To see her Mom
Planting Harmony
Driving down
A two-lane road
Rows and rows
Of sprouting crops
Wrap me in
A soothing hug-
So much has
Happened
Is still happening
Above and below
The Earth to ensure
Their survival…and mine–
Within their embrace
I see logic planted
In harmonic lines
Mathematics
Mixed with music
My heart beats
In the spaces
Between each
Row of green
My soul sings
Sweet and free
Not wanting
This song to end
Framing the Day
Looking out
Through
The glass
That frames
My morning drive
A great expanse
Of rolling
White clouds
Dotted
With patches
Of blue
Unfolds in
Front of me
An audible breath
As sunlight graces
My periphery
Providing
Welcomed
Warmth
Blended with
The morning breeze
An indication of what’s to come
Perhaps
A singular moment of awe and peace
Absolutely
Simply Sunday
Driving at Dusk
Silhouetted trees
Of blackest ink
Unwavering
Against
A radiant orange
Horizon
The Earth
Continuing
On its orbit
No slower
Or faster than
The day before
I am moving, too
Yet, somehow
Frozen
In this one
Instant of time
Unchanging
Giving me pause
Time to marvel
Until the
Moment
Fades away
Piano Girl 