Highways and Dead-ends
Rain is falling as I look out the window—
It’s December and I’m left to wonder
where time itself has gone.
Through the years I’ve driven highways
ribbons of pavement, never knowing
where they would reach their end.
I became friends with construction workers
as they tore up and rebuilt roads.
Throughout the day I held onto my sign
to stop lines of cars then let them go.
On Fridays I took the call from the office
to learn where I’d go for the next assignment.
I spent years driving with the passing sun
as my life unfolded through miles.
But now I’m staying in town.
People in diners here talk about the weather
to get to know each other and pass time.
People in bars here talk about their teams
and can discuss their favorite plays for hours.
I take in passing conversations and nod my head.
It’s December and I’m left to wonder
what brought me to this time and place.
The roads that carried me across states
brought me here to a quiet street
that ends at a wooded ravine.
My ears ring as I sit in my time and place.
A spread of trees in winter laid bare
waits for the arrival of spring.
Rain is falling as I look out the window.
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