I like a sun that slips onto night like a cloak,
reminds one of nothing as it gathers momentum
covers a giant slice of sky with fresh brilliance,
light-bathed blue, a canvas of new day.
I close my eyes into remembering I have not created me, praying for guidance on matters threaded through days recent, weighty hours, waiting hours.
Driving from Dallas to Houston, I look for my voice.
Harry Potter keeps the boys company in back,
my husband and I shift easily from silence to banter
and back again to a quiet survey of the passing landscape,
slowly emptying a bag of chocolate chips.
This laughter we fall into, the original attraction
still weaving us closer together,
it saves me from a meditation of fear,
a compulsive rhythm of go-nowhere thoughts
I swear are the American tragedy for those of us
who have more than enough,
who needn’t spend the day gathering basic needs
before falling into bed each night.
Prayer too, asks me to hand over anxiety, so I do, for a while, but my shoulders may not always relax.
I’m getting to know myself out here on the road.