Poetry for Brigid

It has become traditional in cyberspace for those of us who celebrate Imbolc/Brigid to post poetry at this time. This practice has been dubbed "Brigid Poetry Slam" by Deborah Oak, and "Brigid Poetry Festival" by Anne Hill. I wrote this poem many years ago and was prompted to post it here now by blogger Hecate's post of last November about everyday spiritual practices.

Beltway Epiphany

Halogen headlights piercing the still dark autumn morning,
I race up Route 666 trying to make up for the five minutes
I overslept

Bach's Fifth Brandenburg borne by
radio waves accompanies my
lurch onto the Dulles Access
dark as death, no cars ahead
I use my brights until
confronted
by the thousand and one lights of the
Beltway

Night's black grays as, blinker on,
carefully, I cross three lanes,
steadily accelerating to earn my place on the far left
until,
at the bridge approach,
I ride bumper to bumper in the fast lane
doing 65
and being passed by the impatient on the right

One, indignant, cuts in front of me and brakes.
Heart pounding I
slow in time
and curse
while
harpsichord plays with flute and fiddle

Smoke? No, fog
drifts in from the river
and traffic slows in anticipation

Midway between states, above the water,
the mist is burnt away
by the trees' fall flaming

As enchanted cars glide eastward
to the other side,
rose-ridged clouds soaring above
the Bridge
burst into bright angel wings
against night's navy velvet

Together we round the curve to the harpsichord cadenza when
behind the trees, rising
above the mountains of clouds,
the sun
shouts
a benediction
on the early morning pilgrims

who cannot stop to contemplate
the rose-gold star's rise to a shaft
piercing the clouds,
a white spotlight
on the fiery trees rimming the road

Cadenza complete, I
merge onto I-270, signaling right.
Suddenly pursued by a tractor trailer I
slow,
let it pass
until its growl blends with the highway hum
and its taillights are two red dots that can hardly be seen
in the daylight

Then crossing
three lanes,
I exit at Montrose.

Copyright 1993 by Judith Laura and published in the journal Metropolitain that year. Used with permission.