On a pitch black November night, I drove alone in an old Chevy car. With the window rolled down, a cold air against my skin, I escaped as far as an anxious man can to a next street light. When the red light disappeared I pulled over to the side and bathed under the spirit calm of a soft green hue.
A rear view mirror looked at me, and I looked into the window of my soul. Then came the unexpected peace under a changing street light; like autumn leaves...the colours falling from red to green and yellow in between. I waited under the milky way until it poured into morning. Then my steady hands turned the bleary car easily around.
I knew in my surrendered soul I was too old to run...the open road now closed to this restless heart. This thought filled me with joy as I drove home. My warm bed would await me...I would close my eyes and sleep till a second sunrise and awaken to a newness...stretch and yawn to a happier me.
LIFE OF A POET - JOHN BUCHANAN
4 hours ago