Driving Home By: Sherrie
Quiet. No sounds around me, except the hum of the car’s motor, driving down the road. A gray mist of heat rises from the asphalt, like a million tentacles from the blue-gray sea. I do not know where I am headed, as the hazy horizon teases me.
tree lines blur
speeding along highway
winged wheels
Hours. I drive by pastures green with wooden fences holding in the lush grass. Day lilies line the ditches in shades of orange and gold. They defiantly refuse to wilt under the sun’s blaze. Overhead Turkey Vultures circle on warm currents.
in lush green
calling to vultures
death and decay
Salt. I travel through flat lands and swamp. Each scenic view becomes a blur, forgotten before it’s seen. My open window introduces a scent of salt—the sea. Ocean gray is the Atlantic. I know her well. She is composed of siren tears, luring ships to shore.
foamy sprays
across rocky shoals
ship graveyard
Quiet. I sigh, as I watch the tide roll in, teasing my toes. There is no beginning and no ending to the horizon before me. The waters are deep and dangerous, yet cool and inviting. The sun’s flame whispers on my skin. A salty breeze entices me, daring me to fly, to soar, to dive…
rocking waves
salt upon my lips
siren reborn
tree lines blur
speeding along highway
winged wheels
Hours. I drive by pastures green with wooden fences holding in the lush grass. Day lilies line the ditches in shades of orange and gold. They defiantly refuse to wilt under the sun’s blaze. Overhead Turkey Vultures circle on warm currents.
in lush green
calling to vultures
death and decay
Salt. I travel through flat lands and swamp. Each scenic view becomes a blur, forgotten before it’s seen. My open window introduces a scent of salt—the sea. Ocean gray is the Atlantic. I know her well. She is composed of siren tears, luring ships to shore.
foamy sprays
across rocky shoals
ship graveyard
Quiet. I sigh, as I watch the tide roll in, teasing my toes. There is no beginning and no ending to the horizon before me. The waters are deep and dangerous, yet cool and inviting. The sun’s flame whispers on my skin. A salty breeze entices me, daring me to fly, to soar, to dive…
rocking waves
salt upon my lips
siren reborn
~~~~
I found the picture on an obscure site.
No comments:
Post a Comment