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The Living Street
A Poem About The Human Place
My street has the rhythms of a living thing.
She stirs at predawn with a sleepy groan
Uttered by the lone trash truck,
Like an alarm clock
Of crashing garbage cans.
Her morning is full of complaints
Vented by car's wining motors.
She takes a steady pace
Through the morning
Errands and chores.
The afternoon is like a hunt,
Serious, and deadly; and
Full of last-minute deliveries.
Then like a struggling beast
Who defends her territory
Cars roar to garages and lots-
Before another takes their space.
The late afternoon is filled
With the laughter of bicycles,
Stickball and, soccer on the asphalt.
As twilight falls she turns quiet,
Sleepy, and thoughtful;
When tangled lovers walk her lanes.
As night wraps her in silence
She sleeps dangerous like a bear;
Her street lamp like the dragon's eye
Casts a dim circle of light;
As a family of raccoons passes through
Looking for a ripe trash can.
(c) Adron Dozat
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Thank you for visiting and reading my poem. I hope you enjoyed it and that it blessed your day.
Please see the sidebar for my best-loved poems, I am sure you will enjoy them too.
(c)Adron Dozat 5/23/15
