A Night Drive






When I click the beams full, my car has the eyes of a giant.
The road and the night are one colour.

I follow a line of stars homeward.

All the sky is stars: a maze of lights: the eyes of my car gape.
How simple it would be to amble up, meander, squint-bleary, marvel time away.

How would we find our way back?
I don’t know.
I think we would be laughing too much, but then find a bean stalk, helter-skelter, plonk, back on the driveway.
Find a pot of gold in the footwell.



Comments

  1. Geo.9 March 2015 at 23:47

    "A pot of gold in the footwell", I perceive the real treasure is the owner of the feet. Striking photo, but a bit alarming to this American (right-side drivers).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lisa Southard10 March 2015 at 23:10

      Ha- I had forgotten about the right side driving! I am not good at differentiating left and right so I simply follow the 'driver should be nearer the middle' rule. Makes foreign driving problematic :-/
      Thank you for making me precious :-)

      Delete
  2. Dixie@dcrelief10 March 2015 at 04:16

    Pot of gold would be nice too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lisa Southard10 March 2015 at 23:16

      Certainly nicer than the reality of the footwell- it's a bin with no liner! I call it 'homely' which is a word being dragged from the original meaning 'place where people can relax' to 'place where people fear to sit.'

      Delete
  3. Cherdo10 March 2015 at 16:56

    Nooooo....don't follow the stars! They don't follow the road!! I need you to keep posting and a crash will interfere.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lisa Southard10 March 2015 at 23:20

      Noooo worries Cherdo- the stars were road markers (we call them 'cats eyes' and I think this is universal but have not checked- don't want you thinking I am out driving over cats!)

      Delete

Post a comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Yes, A Winter Welcome

Image
~ Words on beginning the Winter Festivities ~ Monday 30th November 2020 Autumn’s last calendar day. The season puts on a thick mist coat so I picture it flouncing out with flaming leaves at its hem, russet apples tumbling behind. Winter clatters at the door, all cold bones and tense sparkling hope. Last night I had driven home connected to a clear night, moon above, fuel warning light pipping, songs turned loud: it was like old poor times, the good energy of it, the leap of faith. This night I drove home through wails of mist, fuel levels contently full, songs still loud: the good energy of repleteness. My fear of comfort is diminished, I note, and this brings an excitement. Am I ready? Yes. Tuesday 1st December 2020 In bed drinking coffee, having first admired the crazy moon lighting the morning sky silvery bright; the sun behind us was arriving as though poured slowly from a jug. Welcome to winter. This first day is a list of simple pleasures: setting up cold protection in t
Read more

Coffee In Bed

Image
Words of laziness and love A day at home. It’s morning. Sat in bed, first coffee drunk. From the window see a frost, a trailing mist. Mr is watching videos of people having self inflicted accidents of which some are engagingly stupid; one admires the ambition, the optimism, the care free higgedly-piggedlyness which pandemic restrictions have currently outlawed. From the window see the sky iced blue, see marigolds in the polytunnel leaning through lime tree branches, too tall to stand alone. I ask for a second coffee. Mr, downstairs, talks to the dog who woke us at dawn but is happy to sofa-nap now till breakfast. Yesterday's marigold harvest.
Read more

Clearing Time

Image
Space for soul work Monday 9th November 2020 It’s write anything day. Tap out words. Thoughts adrift. In my car when I’m in fine voice, no one knows otherwise. I might be pitch perfect. Doesn’t matter. The important thing is to sing if I want to. Write. Always watching the weather, jumping in the mud. Walk my feet into the sea until my shoulders slip under, limbs fold-unfold, swimming. Write anything. Be. Let the cliche be. Doesn’t matter. What matters? Yes the little things, yes the big picture. Making mistakes YES. Be serious. Be fun. Misuse punctuation in the general flow. Beautiful words that come to me when I’m lacking a pen or a keyboard, that will never be replicated, that were either perfect or illusionary, that do or don’t need to be shared: tumble through it. Look but seek nothing. I’m at work, it’s drizzling. Sky a pale blur, all colours softened. Indoors the light is warm and also soft. I’m tired from the hot flushes that are stalking my nights, from the dog’s odd new ob
Read more