To travel in heavy traffic
is to watch the foil of a plan
unfasten a highway.
I see unseen hands move,
replace my path
on the shoulder. Snug.
Secure in the driver’s seat
my human hands grip the wheel
on a moonlit crossing.
Incessant rain turns to glaze
as slick as cars spinning fortresses.
A host of headlights
reshape my journey.
When weariness steers a long day,
I hear road noise –
relaxes me like a lullaby,
lowers my eyelids
translucent as an angel’s wing
lifts me awake.
Leaves whisper around my way.
I drive beneath percussion and squall
as high cymbals strike
a faux slam,
a saving grace
along my windshield.
I am a passenger,
bearing witness to my body
walking away a miracle.
