A Winter Evening Commute
The winter darkness falls before the day
Has run its course, long ere the eyes of those
Who labor seek surcease from weariness.
The home-bound traffic winds its halting way
Beneath the moon-bound Evening Star and slows—
A mess.
And so I sit with promises to keep,
Ensnarled within a concrete wilderness
As news and music streams from radios.
At last the exit home—to eat, to sleep,
And rest.
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