Night Drive

When we felt the sun sink
into Smuggler’s Cove

we met dead pirates plotting
and for treasure we dove.

When we smelled stars in the sky
above Joy Valley Street

we devoured cakes made of laughter
then floated higher than trees.

When we heard the moon rise
over Monastery Lane

the monks whispered a secret
how to talk to the rain.



About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured in Chiron Review, The Fourth River, Off the Coast, Poetry East, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at .


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