Highway Haiku

All the things I want
to say live in the pauses
between songs as I

drive into the dusk,
drenched in tendrils of half-light,
words wild in my throat.

Rustling down these streets,
each wrong turn shows me something
new and lyrical.

Trees stripped of their flesh
bare their nude shoulders and dance
to the evening wind.

Silhouette of a
solitary pigeon ghosts
a rain-washed window.

I drive pass fields where
silk collars are torn from corn,
leaving husks behind.

Stirred by dusk, a choir
of lovesick cicadas sing
to the star-stitched sky.

I count the minutes
till I walk through your gates and
into your embrace.

Love has a way of
making us lost so that we
might find our path home.

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