Apostles of the Interstate
On the tenth day of Christmas
south of the interstate, mist
halos the ground. A dozen
illuminated cherrypickers,
back hoes and cranes
reverently cluster
a large metal storage shed—
adoration of the machine Christ,
21st century manger scene.
Our car hums hymns, wipers
clicking hallelujah, hallelujah.
Despite inclement weather,
we sit comfortably as the miles
slip by. What star is this?
A new cell phone tower
blinks warning to planes
straying from local flight lanes.
We are apostles of the interstate;
our Acts of Acceleration
taking us home.
—Sandra Lindow, Menomonie, WI
