We drove toward gold this morning,
toward shining splinters in the sky ahead.
The four lane whizzed through winter woods
lit by low morning sun and set
against dark blue slate of cloud.
I felt as an elf away too long,
now within reach of my native home.
Sometimes I see these sigils
that snap the day open, that smile,
like the blue heron sleek in the local pond,
almost a secret.