Five-Thirty
When brakes all light up at red lights,
most drivers seem to go for their phones
and scroll to touch the outside world,
while some just get lost in their palms.
The impulse to scan the devices in hand
just fills the moment with foolishness—
for where the mind makes its residence,
there the heart will also live.
Watch sunset sky spread dusk above us
in fire-winged shadows of dying day.
See the tidal blues wash up the horizon
as night is reflected in oceans of space.
Here under the city’s blessing of stars,
I’m headed to get my son from practice.
I cap my pen when the light turns green—
excited to show him the seed of this poem.
When brakes all light up at red lights,
most drivers seem to go for their phones
and scroll to touch the outside world,
while some just get lost in their palms.
The impulse to scan the devices in hand
just fills the moment with foolishness—
for where the mind makes its residence,
there the heart will also live.
Watch sunset sky spread dusk above us
in fire-winged shadows of dying day.
See the tidal blues wash up the horizon
as night is reflected in oceans of space.
Here under the city’s blessing of stars,
I’m headed to get my son from practice.
I cap my pen when the light turns green—
excited to show him the seed of this poem.
Two lifetimes ago, Catherine performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. Her work has appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Pank, Victorian Violet Press, and The Grief Diaries. Her chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press. Find her on twitter @czickgraf. Watch and read more at www.caththegreat.blogspot.com
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