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LEONIDS
Way past our bedtime, we walked out
to watch the meteors. The homey stars
were brittle, as if transmuted
by two-in-the-morning. A light streaked
south past Sirius, and then a whiz-
bang straight-up into Orion. We waited,
shivering, for more.
How many shooting stars are granted
most marriages? After so many
years, who stays up to watch? And yet,
this meteor shower didn't seem nearly
so grand as they predicted. Another
little scurry of light, low
to the horizon, and we gave it up.
Like so many things in life,
I thought, a bit of a disappointment.
Walking back to the house, we stopped
to check our burn-pile: that lingering
smolder of dark red embers, maybe
as much blaze as anyone could hope
for, short of a warm bed.
JUMP-SEAT
At 77 mph we're driving
home, I'm in the jump-
seat with the windows wide
to slipstream, tie-downs flapping
600 miles of maps &
dirty laundry
lugging the grade
past trucks grumbling
the slow lane
static on the radio
a long way between stations
pushing a headwind
too low to hear above
the tie-downs slapping
trucks grinding concrete
but I'm in the jump-
seat headed home.
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