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| Mirages |
I drive home
Through the mountain curves,
Because it is shorter,
That I might embrace
My little ones sooner,
Sorry for the absence.
And it seems necessary
To hold them
The first possible
Second I can.
I see the heat waves.
I know all about mirages;
I live with them.
They change, even
Before I can
Drive home
They will have grown.
Already their babyhood
Is as unreal to me
As the pools of
Cool water
Up ahead on the
Summer sun-soaked
Highway.
I hurry,
Hoping not to miss
A moment more
Of their fleeting,
Elusive
Childhood.
-- Barbara Werrett Nielsen |
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