Off the Main Road

An evening-instant, when bats fly and a flute tunes its night music; a bass-line like crane- thrumming from the flats. Listen to the drain of daylight, so far from traffic and brute commerce. Today’s already shoved down the chute; in tomorrow’s news it’s Yesterday. How sane the bullfrogs sound, booming under my raised pane, the bedroom window wide to what won’t live mute. The radio alarm shatters that. The word Must takes over. Coffee, briefcase, and you’re out the front door, leaving your tire-trail of dust and that rising but invisible cloud of doubt that follows you out to the main road, the stark asphalt you drive until a new night’s dark.