Pair of Socks

You wonder why I don't pull over,
Driving through this wooly winter night?
The snowflakes flick like knitting needles,
Clicking like my mileage on the dash;
Each flake checkmarks a ghost of some
Minute and unrenewable drop of gas
That my aching feet are feeding,
Right foot forward, frozen, almost fast asleep
And I wear two pairs of spare socks
That my mother made for me.

You wonder why I still keep driving,
Sliding on the outskirts of the map?
Towards my home in Destiny, the storm gets deeper,
Sleep starts creeping in
And the foot that first flew forward
Kicking knitting, clicking mother in the guts
Before it bore my weight and left its wooly footprints
Hurried, heavy, oh too heavy on her heart
That windshield wipers try to clear
These tears that blur my eyes:
You see I buried her today.
"For the journey is what matters",
That is what she'd want remembered
And to wear the pair of spare socks
That her loving left for me.

Nik Habermel, January 1997