A northbound car rumbles down an otherwise empty road
Spinning a vortex of red and yellow leaves as it goes
And the dancing shadows cast in the taillights
Mock the demons of the otherwise empty poet;
sitting under his lonely street lamp
Hunting the word that says at once the thousand things he wants to say

Watching

As the car collides invisibly with oncoming traffic.
Spirits seep out of the wreckage–like sighs of relief
And without stopping to acknowledge one another
They share a moment of clarity
As the swirls of autumn
Come gracefully
To a rest.

06/26/2009

Posted on 06/26/2009
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