—
late sun drops low
over the reservoir
one circle of light among
the dozen headlamps
already licking the
new english road.
I want to stop. The single
goose on a high rock island
wants me to stop.
the soft black top gravel
shoulder is wide but I’m
past before I know it.
sun there and gone, behind that
remnant wood; the rock wall
slumps, goose replaced
by a shattered pine tree.
—