Metal moans
and brake lines squeal
as rubber comes to a crawl –
tie-up on the highway.
Roadside wildflowers flourish,
attract birds and bees alike –
a butterfly floats by, nonchalant.
Tempers flare, impatience inches,
horns no deterrence for maddening halt.
Let me be the butterfly, I pray,
carefree in the midst of such fray.
Emotions don wheels,
tear about, burn rubber,
congest – psychic traffic jam.
Alone, there is no outlet,
no scapegoat for this tirade,
just a damned discomfort.
No worries – I will pace
from distraction to distraction,
until sanity makes a comeback.
(Thanks to all the prompters for providing the words to describe today’s state of mind: Ragtag Community (comeback), Fandango (traffic), Manic Mondays 3 Way (damned), and Daily Addictions (tirade).)
One Woman's Quest 