Spiritual Travel Poem by Romella Kitchens

As we drive, here comes the tail of the moon slipping around the road's curvaceous bend.
The road has birthing hips, wide and splendid.
The road has room for our car to pull-off to roadside.

We sit on warped wood fence railing together and speak the silence of awe of the vaulted night skies.
The moon a wide faced yellow dog, wags its tail
over us...
It shifts like a good dog, anxious to let us get by to follow its lovingly lent light home.