The Highway North

I cruise north on the road, heading back from a day by the sea. The white lines of the road sharply vanish down a narrow view of perspective. Above, in a blue lake of sky, a group of clouds drift in a lazy line. It's Saturday. Ahead of me lies only empty pavement. A few cars pass. So I too, like the clouds drift in thought as I move along the asphalt track, lost in reverie, or just gazing at the scenes that come along as I move north.

But the fact remains--I am alone with myself, here and now along the road going north. Others, who ever they may be, will come here later, when the summer sun is higher in the sky. Crowds of drivers cannot be found today. I feel lucky at my fate, not being rushed or pressured to move along. This is an opening when the road and hills and sky belong to the few.