Late-Night Streets

 

The shadowy embers

of the smashed tail light burn

subtly at the wayside.

 

They try to melt

and mold into gravel,

but fail

at the fault

of their unnatural

color and plastic foundation.

 

Yet that was the only red

rendered on the road last night

when the rabbit rushed out.

 

Only to leap last-

minute into a ditch

as I laid

on my brakes cursing

the lucky little creature

that was saved.

 

But was it luck that spared

us both from whiplash?

That supplied our safety?

 

It must have, I suppose.

For usually we find

that loose gravel

plus a loose heart

leads to loose change

flung onto late-night streets.

 

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