the drive home

in weather where words are seen

harsh cold, clenching of tired teeth

blankets laid to the edge of the seat

a glass house of fogged windows erased to see.

careful hands on the wheel

worn out from love and compromise

loosened by the grip of sleep.

falling rain beats a rhythm

echoed deep into the dome of the drum

rigid and sharp, simple eyes no longer shut.

dark midnight blue, deep serene

faint hints of sweet wood

and chorus of critters within reeds

silent cuts of gravel decisions

lead by hand over hand swift movements

winding safely sheltered, a place at home

between arms and linen sheets.