Poetry · Poem
Turnpike Storm
A landscape observed through a rain-streaked windshield near Yeehaw Junction.
The headlights catch the slash-pines first, then the grey curtain of the rain that sweeps across the asphalt lane.
The wipers beat their double-time against the dark and heavy sky, a steady rhythm for the road.
At the service plaza, under lights, the travelers gather on the curb and wait for the sky to clear.