Spring night
I close my eyes and roll the windows down
The breeze brushes my insomnia away
And brings aboard all the
Scents of evenings past
Cut grass, willow leaves, the space between
The midnight clouds and budding greens
Flowers blooming for the first and last time anywhere
My hair flies forty-five miles per hour
Removes the sour taste in my mouth
Of other nights, abandoned by pretense
And the erosion of dreams.
Instead, abridging the wonder
Of spring lightly touching fall
Coming home from college last night to spend a week with my family before next semester, I fell asleep. I had been up for approaching thirty straight hours, due to exams and projects, and I just couldn’t stay up anymore (don’t worry, I obviously wasn’t the one driving). I woke about twenty minutes from home, and, by chance, rolled down the windows. It was dark, and the air was crisp and cool. Outside smelled like… I’m not sure. Spring and everything. It’s hard to describe, so I tried to write a poem about it, and failed. Said failure is above.
Don’t get me wrong. I feel like this poem is very rough and imperfect, but I still like it. As my track record for writing sonnets goes, it’s certainly my best. But I don’t think I captured the moment adequately. Perhaps I’ll return to that some other night, on some other highway.
Nimbus in a Bottle 