The Way Home

I know the way home

like the back of my hand.

I know how the road curves
this way and that
where the trees tower
at the edge of the road
and where the cows graze.

I know where the interstates
merge and diverge
where the roads lead to the beach
and the rest inland.

I know the Way Home in the darkness of night
amidst the glow of headlights
and in the bright sunshine
of day.

Yes, I know the Way Home
like the back of my hand.

Composed along the way, somewhere south of Fresno and north of Los Angeles on I-5.

Here's wishing you a very happy holiday!
C.