deepundergroundpoetry.com
Driving to the Airport
Good Morning Love,
Heart filled with hope through the foggy sleeping streets dotted with colorful lights of the season….
Perhaps the fog will lift… perhaps… in a few flights, a few hundred miles, a few drifts of snow, a few guarded words, a few days… it’s a very tentative perhaps… Usually when fog shrouds our little valley, the city streets are clear, but not this winter-darkened morning of first freeze. So I find comfort with an extra dose of gratitude this morning that this fluxing heart of desire and despair, hope and helplessness, on a cold dark foggy ride to the airport feels hope.
I hope your morning, too, is warmed by thoughts of my love.
Always,
__
Heart filled with hope through the foggy sleeping streets dotted with colorful lights of the season….
Perhaps the fog will lift… perhaps… in a few flights, a few hundred miles, a few drifts of snow, a few guarded words, a few days… it’s a very tentative perhaps… Usually when fog shrouds our little valley, the city streets are clear, but not this winter-darkened morning of first freeze. So I find comfort with an extra dose of gratitude this morning that this fluxing heart of desire and despair, hope and helplessness, on a cold dark foggy ride to the airport feels hope.
I hope your morning, too, is warmed by thoughts of my love.
Always,
__
Published 3rd Dec 2024
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