Driving switchbacks on Shenandoah’s spine,
dipping into valleys and screaming up again,

we scorch speed warnings from yellow diamonds
as the dashboard Garmin’s destination time

spins backwards. We’re regaining invisible minutes
that would have languished on a longer voyage,

one that slowed to marvel at purple splashes
of ironweed and white tassels of sweetspire

or braked to heed warnings of falling rocks.
The cerulean sky has tumbled other sarsens

in our path, and instead of ringing them
in monuments, we have taken to the road,

racing time itself, arms stretched out windows,
splayed fingers clawing the howling wind.

Bill Glose is a combat veteran who now finds peace in his morning runs. The author of five books of poetry and one book of fiction, Glose was named the Daily Press Poet Laureate in 2011 and featured by NPR on The Writer’s Almanac in 2017. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, including The Missouri Review, Rattle, Poet Lore, Narrative Magazine, and The Sun.