Morning Ride

Poem about a morning drive

Trees on fire with red, green and gold
pink with desire
as the first rays of golden love light up the road.
They arch and strain over head
Delicate fingers reaching to touch
when the wind brushes them just enough.
The hum of my co-conspirator rumbles into life
as we flee from the last remnants of the night
pressing into the upward winding path
that's just empty enough to let me lay down on the gas.
In these first few breaths of morning
with the world waking from its frozen slumber,
with the rumble of the engine hurdling us through this wonder,
we're given the gift of ponder
even when we're traveling at sixty mph.