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Traffic Reports

Traffic reports are good,

He sets off on his appointments,

Get the package here,

Deliver another one there,

The cross county line greets him,

Like a high wire act,

Where no one is afraid of heights,

And no one has an accident for years,

Hollowed out trees,

Litter the sides of the highway,

Lifeless…

Yet still providing purpose,

He pauses suddenly,

As he hears the alarm,

The southbound county route,

Is no longer available,

He won’t make his deadline

Going around…

Finding a new route…

Takes time he doesn’t have,

As he looks from his parking spot,

He then sees across the street

A large grey cat,

Hidden amongst petunias,

Eyes peering out

Of the flowers,

Trying not to be seen

Or heard,

The life of a squirrel moving nuts

From place to place

Has a unique set of perils,

And obstacles,

No one need to be another’s lunch.

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