Driving at Night

As the days get shorter, the child in me longs for the sunlight. Tonight I remembered how much I enjoy driving in the dark. Driving in the dark is when I am closest to my friends and family that died. They seem to wrap me up--buffering me from the unseen dangers in the dark. The dark reminds me of all the things I have accomplished in the day--or my life time and reminds me what I have left to do.

Where was the last time you let the darkness wrap around out. Where does it lead? Is it dangerous? Is it comforting?

Driving at Night

My heart leaps at the feeling of my brother beside me

laughing and laughing. his smile shadowed 

in passing headlights along the rolling hills

outside Bridgeport, Nebraska

I feel the weight of the car shift.

I steady my hand on the wheel

as my Grandmother joins us

I used to be the one in the backseat

Grandpa driving 45 down highway 26.

It meant that we stopped for breakfast

before we hit Henry on our way to Wyoming

Caution has a place.

Fear leads to haste.

Pride is allowed.

Sorrow is precious.

Tonight, my dear friend joins us

The undertones of sunblock

and something sweeter fills my nose

I smile. We've come a long way, and

we aren't finished yet.

She is ever the guide.

I was missing her tonight.

Smiling and crying,

I barrel down a six lane Maryland highway

like the wise moon will stop

waning and waxing and becoming new again.

The car is full. I am wrapped

in the arms of heaven

the on-coming cars are sharp and bright

in this well lit darkness, 

I'm whole and I am home.

Thursday Mornings

Even before I quit my job, I started picking up trash between the Jumping Bean's (JB) school and home. Thursday trash sweep has come to be my ritual and my contribution to the health and well-being of my community and yours.

This morning's sweep was full of fall blessings and the winter silence. For the first time in weeks, I felt a moment of elusive peace. I could breathe.

Where are you finding peace and room to breathe in the descending energy of the fall?

Thursday Mornings

cold crinkle of a bag between my fingers

there is me, the calling of the crows, and the stillness in the wind

dried summer foliage reveals last year's soda bottles,

on-the-go lunches, midnight parties--heard more than seen

An orange flash of cellophane winks at me from the fog-coated grass

my thumb meets its fellows and the dewed plastic

reminds my fingers that it's getting cooler on Thursday mornings

I stand for a moment to let the distant rush

of the morning pass through me

I breathe in the silent wind and let out my last breath,

until the next one comes with no thought of mine

the post-Halloween trail of sugar dreams

peeking out from the leaves. they wait for me.

squirrels run with the last of summer's bounty

afraid I've come for their breakfast. i only take what's left behind