when i pass this way of the road
my gaze falls on the faraway lines
trees hugging the mountain sides
shrubs leaning towards break of dawn
i sometimes cannot catch when
winter frost clouds my car mirrors,
numbing my hands as i break thin ice
into crystals, my red mittens dewy wet
i grip my car wheel tightly, speeding fast
urban grey road huddled with cars and trucks
in all makes and sizes, along the freeway
humming engines, like working ants in
the trail i see zigzagging up the steps,
going here, marching to the city radio
pulsing pop music and road updates,
all noise and pollution to keep us busy,
yet as the sun unravels, i gaze afar
and wonder how long will i keep on
driving until i can touch your soft leaves
and breathe in your fresh pine scent
Posted for: D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Visual -eyes -ing- hosted by Brian Miller
My morning and afternoon ritual in the city ~
Picture credit: Reena
The ending was stunning. Some drives hold rich rewards.
ReplyDeleteGrace- This paints such a vivid picture in my mind. I love the details and texture especially:
ReplyDeletenumbing my hands as i break thin ice
into crystals, my red mittens dewy wet
Funny how we chose the same picture and both used the word "leaves". In yours, we hear your leaving to the fading sound of radio...
ReplyDeleteBravo for the reference to the little hanging pine scent.
As I was reading this I was sat in a car driving round those twisting mountain roads with the radio on. Love the ending...made the journey even more emotional and powerful. great stuff
ReplyDeleteNice to meet you too Grace! and there is no such thing as better! :)
ReplyDeleteThis was the picture I hesitated over, almost picked ... you did it justice, I think, with "Afar" ... I like the whole feel of the poem ... driving, the radio, the scent of the pine, feel of frost on mittens ... I enjoyed this very much.
ReplyDeletehttp://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.com/2012/02/columns-upon-columns.html
Beautiful write, Grace! So vivid, I could almost feel the road beneath the tires. Very nicely done!
ReplyDeletehttp://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2012/02/18/the-last-watch/
hauntingly beautiful.
ReplyDeleteA lovely poem for a lovely sight. I can almost see the zigzag trail. Smiles
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, how often sections in a road travelled everyday just scream out at us... inviting us to wander into a wonderland. I very much enjoyed reading this...thankyou!
ReplyDeleteA wonderful scenic drive you provided here at your bay, making it come alive. Another huge plus, I didn't have to pay for gas..lol
ReplyDeletehow long indeed... very nice.
ReplyDeleteVery nice. I really like the contrast of the red mittens, dewy. K.
ReplyDeleteLovely ending:
ReplyDelete"how long will i keep on
driving until i can touch your soft leaves
and breathe in your fresh pine scent"
i will drive as long as it takes...smiles...def love all the texture in this grace...and i like all the references you make along the way to the artificial, because it strikes a nice contrast to your nature close...
ReplyDeleteYour words speak to me, my feeling when I see the picture. I miss that scenic drive.
ReplyDeletenice...the longing to leave this daily highway madness for a forest of peace...can feel this..
ReplyDeleteYou have a wonderful and sensual feel for nature that comes through in this poem. I like the way you bring in the ants to link to the traffic, and make it personal with your mittens and the last few lines.
ReplyDeleteA lovely poem - I like your style of writing very much.
vividly visual...and I wanted to smell the pine too.
ReplyDeleteDefinitely relate to the desire for the peace of mountain retreats and haunts. You not only evoke that desire but the rat race anxieties pulling us apart. Excellent write.
ReplyDeleteWonderful write ~ I can relate to the longing to be with nature & out of the towns and cities...love that last stanza :)
ReplyDeleteyes, sometimes it feels like forever before we get to the mountains, which is a metaphor for getting away and also for relaxing
ReplyDeleteLove the contrast you create with your beautiful prose between the hustle and bustle of the rat race life, and the tranquility of nature and the sensory splendour it gives us.
ReplyDelete