The Fates of Plates

Two fresh plates to adorn my humble chariot. The one on top had the honor of being mounted at the front, as my customary parking pattern is to back into a space on the far side of the garage. But soft ... was it an honor? To be figurehead, first to see, noble vanguard, and yet, bombarded for countless hours by suicidal bugs, dust, gravel, and mud. The rear plate will soon be far cleaner, and has the quiet, reflective view of what has passed. Though it might wish for the electric thrill of seeing things first. I wonder which the plate on top would prefer, if it had more claim than its fellow below. But fate granted me judicial clarity. Top is front; bottom is back. Different fates - each with their own charm. Grow not envious, o plates. Your positions both have great beauty. 18 November 2022