happens. And it is usually
Before any of you are awake.
I am on the freeway, ignoring the news
Plugged in completely to road and sky.
The mountains sit still, allowing
Light its daily performance. I seek
Out the faces of nearby drivers
Hoping for eye contact, even
A nod of, Yes! I too felt that sunrise
knock our hearts out of the game!
Because such recognition might make
It more permanent. And you might feel
For a moment—closer. I shouldn’t pretend
That I mind, though—the metaphors
In skies that most people miss.
This morning, a wistful cloud
Settled between the onramp and desert
Vista. It followed me like it was the moon.
Not quite a paisley, a near spiral
I took it to mean something about
Death. It’s just that I am so busy
Watching day’s beauty break
Faster than this speed