Driving Alone - Elizabeth Weld Nolan

I like my elbow out the window, catching
air and sun the way my mother drove,
radio singing at my right knee,
foot steady on the accelerator,
cool as a cloud, eyes roving
in a safety circle, behind, to the side,
around, to the front, queen of all I pass:
mountains and light or
ocean and light, on the way
to something good, something sad.
What’s ahead pulls with pleasure
or joy, or tinges the landscape
with melancholy, or pure grief.
It’s being on the way that I love, in between
where I came from and where I’m going,
time to settle my mind. I love curving the car
in an arc smooth as syrup from lane to lane,
arm sunburning on the door,
a thousand miles to go.