Moon 17

I leave you watching over
my mother curled in sleep
I tell you to keep your eye
on her, even though
it's stuck, winking.

I turn onto the freeway
see you're coming with me
on this long dark road
of mother-love and music.

One of the trucks is called
Star Track Express, the semis
herd at this time of night. Their
lights muster courage.

The road is well-signed
with advice, remonstrance,
instruction, location, and
invitations to nap or turn.

I notice you've pushed aside
those frilly sheets of cloud
cleared a space to shine from
clear as a mother's dream
of thankful futures.

On this trip to collect her
from sound and light, at midnight
your light already surrounds me.
I travel watched-over, driving
among silhouettes, steadily.