7 PM on a September afternoon

Driving at 7 PM on a September afternoon,
down a long straight road.
Fields, pavement, me and my
dented 2002 gold Avalon car.

The sun filters in through the trees
trickling light, sifting, basking
us in a golden liquid. So gold that I
I could turn into that mineral: gold
except, gold is cold, and I feel warm
under this sun.

Slanted hues, unnatural.
Long yearning shadows of a time to come.
Only at 7 PM on a September afternoon.
Down a long straight road.
Fields, pavement, me and my
dented 2002 gold Avalon car.

It's an old kind of light, if light had an age.
The kind of light that warmed souls
as they sat drinking in the clouds and grass
and that fiery orb of yonder.
The kind of light that was spoken into being,
and it was good.
I feel a kinship with the yawnings of time, and it makes me feel
Alive.