watching white dashed lines blur
into one, remembering the past year
and wishing I could go back.
The angle of light endlessly shifts,
guiding dancing shadows across the landscape.
The sunbeams are almost parallel to the road,
straining my eyes and challenging my vision.
My thighs are sweating,
the droplets coalescing into warm pools.
There's no AC. The outside air still too balmy
to cool the car.
Perfect purple hues and strokes of yellow
paint the horizon, only to quickly disappear
behind the gray mountains
as the sea swallows the afternoon light.
The smell of yesterday's cappuccino
drifts in the air, luring me back into a caffeine haze.
I would kill for a cup right now,
even though the day draws to a close.
Finally, the fog begins to drift over the hills
like frothed milk- ebbing from the sea,
falling into the mountain crevices and
finally melting into the warm valley.
I am almost home.
I wrote this poem last fall-it was inspired by one particular ride home from work
on a hot afternoon. I changed it a bit, but it remains mostly the same.