Sometimes, for those of us living in the Pacific Northwest, the winter can seem long, unending, the spring so far away--even now, when night and day are the same, and we know more light is coming. This poem speaks to the longing for the light and the warmth and the spring.
Winter Road Trip
by L.L. Barkat
The road is long as I travel south
and the sun is low in the white sky.
Last night I woke to a great silence,
in a house that is anything but silent
by day. Old pines keep watch
over that dwelling, and the moon
keeps watch, and I wish
for this kind of watching,
but my bedroom in the town where I live
looks out over streetlights and the sounds
of cars and sometimes sirens. In my room,
the roads seem short, and I wonder
if tonight I will dream of the long road
home, and how the sun bathed the trees
in gold, and how the sumacs leaned with flowers
the color of some wine whose name
I can’t remember, near the trees whose names
I’ve never known, now strung with long red necklaces.