The Holy Spirit Commutes
On the wet pavement,
lights leave long streaks of color,
shifting and wavering,
joining, flaring, disappearing.
Tires crunch on the
end-of-winter grit below.
The early-morning traffic,
swift with intention,
moves quickly across the city,
preoccupied with the day ahead,
full of purpose, cataloging tasks,
previewing the day’s events.
Underneath the flowing traffic,
under the fitful rain
and the noise of tires and engines,
under gray sky and daybreak shadows,
color flickers and gleams,
flowing, joining and rejoining,
fading and flaring into new life,
undergirding the world with light.