Driving South on I-55

Driving South on I-55

My favorite songs setting the mood.

         A flâneur behind the wheel—

I haven't seen a sidewalk or unanswered question
               in hours—left them back in Chicago.

Some forty-five miles away
         from Decatur,

                  a silver-grey misty fog portentously
                           came over the tawny fields around me,

                                    the way a poem comes into the world.
So I figured,
         once I got the chance,

                  I should write something down
                           before it vanishes.

Perhaps questions can be friends that are unanswered.

         I saw a gray farmhouse and auburn barn
                  that could have been from Wyeth.

I too paint my life.