Have you even gone looking for one poem and discovered a new-to-you poet in the process? That’s how I found “Driving at Night,” by Sheila Packa. I instantly fell in love with Packa’s evocation of Sunday drives. Suddenly, I was in the back seat of my mother’s Chevy, watching the world go by.
“Driving at Night
by Sheila Packa
Up north, the dashboard lights of the family car
gleam in memory, the radio
plays to itself as I drive
my father plied the highways
while my mother talked, she tried to hide
that low lilt, that Finnish brogue,
in the back seat, my sisters and I
our eyes always tied to the Big Dipper
Read the rest of the poem here.
Be sure to visit Katya Czaja at Write. Sketch. Repeat. for the Poetry Friday Round Up.