Driving
Home
Driving south—highways
Stretching out like endless snakes;
Evening sunset sinks.
Stars appear; bright white lanterns—
Light in an empty phone booth.
The Simple Surprise
The heater kicks on at 2 in the morning,
You turn in bed and come closer.
My eyes open to a strange light-darkness,
It’s snowing outside—no wind.
Your left leg is warm—almost hot.
My fingers search and find your fingers.
I squeeze them and wait—you return
A strong squeeze; then soft laughter;
You’ve been awake now for an hour—
And tell me I’ve been snoring a song.
Copyright © 2007 Patrick T. Randolph
