October 12, 2018
Photo by Sandra Delzotti
A Poem by Mark S. Peel
In the Fall I get nervous driving.
When the first leaves hit the ground and skip
across the road with each random gust of wind,
I become distracted with troubling anticipation.
I see the foraging squirrel scamper
along the road and then turn for the other side.
As I continue on my way, the squirrel hops across to a precise point,
stops, straightens with an acorn in hand and stares at me.
He and I both know we have arrived at the moment of decision.
He thinks “do I seek the other side or do I return from whence I came?”
And I, frozen at the wheel, think “do I swerve left or right
or should I stay straight on course and beep my horn?”
In that moment we make our claim to a destiny for eternity
and the consequences are all his. While I anxiously grip
the steering wheel tightly, with regret that I am even there,
my two thousand pound behemoth cruises on without guilt.