Terminal moraine

Most often I think I know why I am going somewhere.  If it*s a job interview, the thought is to get the job, paid or unpaid.  Sometimes I am captured by other things, like the fact that the drive to and from the interview is through seemingly endless forest preserve, the site of a terminal moraine, the end of a glacier.  I have no clear idea whether I will get this volunteer position.  The drive was gift in itself.  

Yesterday I drove south

To interview.

The sun dappled through leaves,

Acres and acres and acres

Of leaves and trees.

I drove north again

With no clear ideas

Except to think

The glacier ended here,

Dropped its load of rock,

Formed hills and valleys.

Trees upon trees grew,

Provided filters for the sun.

I arrived home

North of the terminal moraine,

Grateful for the drive

The interview

The trees

The dappled sunlight

and home.