A song for driving home

This song is a series of mile markers

It is a state highway

This song is a wet road

As hard as the rain on the windows

It is the western sky folding in on itself

A fire sinking into cinders

This song layers colors crooning

Rose, sand, orange, and deep deep blue

And sleeping keeps its stars alight.


This song is not green or yellow like stones and grass

It does not yell from cliffs

Into the black of night.

It is not a light.


This song keeps time in miles

It is a high yearning song for skies

It only sings in sunsets

This song is soft when the wind is still

And lives when the summer dies.