Driving to Words
Go driving, said Julia. It will give you miles to unwind.
I don't really like to drive. All week I drove my daughter back and forth to camp. I used it as a time to listen to music. But I was relieved when Friday came. Driving doesn't do for me what it does for Julia.
I prefer to unwind across pages or back porch mornings. Dew on begonias, sage, the lemon-thyme I just transplanted—these things give me rest, open me to write. While driving through Julia's words, I found a sentence that made me pause...
This is the molten light filmmakers call "golden hour," she said.
I liked that. I let it take hold of me. It tickled out an Independence Day poem of sorts...
This is the golden hour,
when I can play out my life
in hot pink,
and instead of giving me
that look, you will
love me for it, ache
for tomorrow, ask me
to do it all over
Fireworks and Girl photos, by L.L. Barkat.