SUNDAY MORNING DRIVE

SUNDAY MORNING DRIVE* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sunday morning drive~ no maps, no rush, just the open road, Dad at the wheel, our compass. The ribbon of road unwinding, under blue skies, past green fields scent of hay and honeysuckle wafting through open windows. Flicker of neon, screen door's creaky welcome, a filling station oasis, time suspended in dusty glass. 31 cents a gallon, a number from another time, we choose icy delights, sodas fizzing on our tongues. Barns lean into the afternoon, narrow, one lane roads slow-motion slide show, bygone era, simpler time. Sunday morning mile by unchartered mile, nowhere together, a destination in itself (picture below) *Note: I published this poem as a response to Haiku Shack’s weekly prompt (Sunday mornings) on April 14, 2025. This is my original poem. haikushackprompts.substack.com/p/weekly-prompt-on-sunday-mornings