Two-hand grip, knuckles clamp the wheel

The muffled sound of the tires

Tell me we are no longer touching asphalt

We now roll along on snow-pack

Drifts blow across the highway

Giving a sense of weird sideways vertigo

Then slush and mush hit my windshield

As faster drivers pass--I can barely see as it is

I turn up the radio as we climb the mountain pass,

 Familiar tunes and rhythms calm my nerves

A long trail of lights creep behind in my trail

And my precious cargo sleeps in back, unaware

What is usually done in an hour

Has now taken two and a half

I slide a bit past the turn to my town

And into my carport as Taylor Swift sings me home