The interstate's song at dusk
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original poetry and photographs by @d-pend_____________________________________________
The interstate's song at dusk
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Pleats of light swerve around stone;
pillars are legion where I call my home.
Now gold braids through their arches
at sundown returning each one, in lurches
that buckle the blazing concrete.
Under the bridge, where the automobiles
drum upon thrumming eve's air
I pass, and I hesitate listening:
wheelpaths whir — without a care.
And the interstate sings its song
at dusk when the fireflies stir.
words and images by @d-pendcreated for HIVE on June 6, 2020.
This is a very relatable poem that feels good to read. Without the fireflies it would be just about your apartment but the fireflied at dusk make the poem alive. I really do miss those critters.
Happy to see you felt the same way about the fireflies line. It felt like that really brought it all together. I'm grateful those exist, one of life's small wonders!
nice combination between poetry and photography!
Thanks @astrolabio for visiting my blog and I'm glad you enjoyed it :-)