Driving down the long highway
I see a beam of light
a star, a moon, a car headlight
either it could be.
but no its not and as I watch
the light shifts down from
high heaven to
blaze a trail past me
it dances, dances through the trees
"a ghost-light", I think to myself
I shrug and keep on driving
through the highway cut through hill
and stone, a road through a tomb
through a heart, through a carcass
of mountain and soul of land.
the ghost-light reminds me of something
from my childhood
and instantly I'm back
in the Monte Carlo, riding home from
a halloween party
in Vermont.
those long deep nights
where anything is possible
and I could half expect to see
a witch flying past our car
on a broom, flying along
the highway like its anything else,
flitting through our headlights in
cold dark silhouette.
the night is alive.
imagination's very doors
swung wide for me.
I haven't felt that in forever.
I felt a tinge of it
just barely.
and I hope I feel it again.
