back seat non-driver

in the back seat of my brother’s car

i, who nearly always am the driver,

got to peer up between stands of trees

and along the hilltop to the low

mountains layered behind them

trace the curves of tractor furrows

where the farmer followed

the contours of his land

all the delights a driver may not

allow her focus to remain on

as she steers from town

through wooded corridors

and farm communities

on the way to foggy coast

how i love my brother and sister (-in-law and -in-love)

who have always quietly done for me

things i could not do for myself