Ode to the Road

Open and free
congested and rowdy
multiple lanes of confusion
I find myself where you are.
My life navigates
on your surfaces and edges
some pitted and rutted with wear
others comforting as velvet.
By signs and numbers
under stars and streetlights
you guide and welcome my way.
Your maps are metaphors
crisscrossed like synapses
and layers of memories,
layers of mysteries.
I roll along on your hills
where the bottom drops out
along stretches where I can see clearly
to the shimmering horizon ahead.
I sip with you on coffee and smoothies,
sing and pray with many voices.
You take me where I choose.

Deer do not understand you.
Skunks are drawn to you.
Mosquitoes are surprised.
You accept 18-wheelers and baby shoes
deluges and rainbows just the same.
I try to be patient,
extend your compassion
to other lost travelers.

Sometimes I hear poems
through the rhythm of the tires,
the beat of the street.
Sometimes I am saved by angels.

You take me to unexpected
trials and delights.

You raise more questions
than you answer.

(c) 2010 Cecilia Reid Driscoll