Scenery, rolling hills, buildings, bridges, all with the backdrop of the setting sun. "You know what the shoes on the power lines mean?" Graffiti, grass. "Is that the Empire State Building?" Reading, roadkill.
The poetry was less in the landscape, but in the people whizzing by. Because are the people more than part of the landscape? The blonde tween with her chin propped up on her hand, gazing absent-mindedly at the landscape. The shaggy-haired college student juggling a cellphone with the steering wheel, frowning as he swerves. The old man sitting solidly in the back seat, staring straight ahead expressionlessly. The couple peering down at the cars from the overpass.
People I couldn't even begin to speculate about, people reminding me that we are all so different and all so very much the same. Making me wish I could know everyone in the world.
Singing Keith Green songs after listening to missionary stories. Discussing theology and disagreeing civilly. Marveling at God's wonder. From the safety of our little enclosure whizzing through cities and farmlands? Learning, thinking, laughing, reflecting.
I think I like car rides.