Autumn Drive
Early morning,
too, too early.
Highway clear,
no other cars
on this long, black
ribbon into space.
Gas gage reaches
for empty
Nose pretends
to be a sieve,
no tissues in my purse.
Stress builds.
I top a rise, descend
into a valley of color.
Fall’s brilliant hues
burst into my vision,
steal my breath.
Thank you, Father.
Tap me on the shoulder
any time you please.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment