Driving home – poem for dVerse

This road connects us
and divides us
and I drive it like
I’m on a quest

I drive it like
I’m cutting through
a hedge of thorns,
or like I’m climbing up
a mountain made of glass

I know each curve
each hill and yet
it’s new each time
and I forget this bend,
this climb. I hate
the lorries that
crawl so slowly
and the tractors
I get stuck behind

because I’m driving
like I’m crossing
a great sea of ice,
or creeping through
a forest made of
sounds and shadows

and this road divides us
and connects us
so that I love it
and I hate it – waiting
for that moment

coming over the hill

when I see the moor
carved across the sky

and the tree that bends
away from the west wind

and the rook on the wire

and I’m home.