Poetry Friday: Driving at Night

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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.

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9 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: Driving at Night

  1. Oh, thanks for sharing this poem and sending me on a trip down memory lane. I so clearly recall lying in the back seat of the big station wagon, eyes closed, trying to judge by the twists and turns in the road when we were in familiar territory and close to home.

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  2. I do remember those drives at night when we were thought to be asleep in the back seat, but I was listening to my parents’ quiet conversation and feeling the comfort of belonging. Thanks.

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  3. Jama took my favorite line, gorgeous: “It’s like a different country, the past”. I wonder what kids today will remember. I loved the cozy feeling driving home at night with parents in the front. Thanks for sharing this new poet, too, Catherine.

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  4. Yes, this brings back memories of Sunday drives, of Christmas Eve drives around town looking at lights, of watching shooting stars out the back window of a friend’s car as we drove home from a high school basketball game.

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