Poem: On the Drive to Work

On the Drive to Work

And so it is Fall.
The traffic light mirrors the palette of the trees
As it stops me on my morning journey.

I look at my hands,
Gripping the wheel of this almost-owned car,
And at my arms,
A vestige of the best summer tan
I’ve had since my youth
Still visible.

A woman’s caftan swirls about her dark legs
As she walks the sidewalk regally beside me.
African prints billow up
Before small hands press them down again.

The first yellow and orange leaves
Dance across my windshield
Beckoning me to turn around,
To head for home,
To call in sick,
Then run outside to play.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009 - the first full day of Autumn *Photo from 2008 in New Hampshire