ROAD-KILL

Double beams of light carve
through the shadowy night.
Cutting out slices of eerie,
streaking visions.
We speed onwards in our midnight,
Grey-Hound flight.
Wobbly heads,
bounce on double chins beneath,
as travel weary souls,
search for a wink of sleep.
In cramped quarters,
uncomfortable for two feet.

Wheels hum...
The baby in the back cries along.
Unaware of the stress
she caused those who didn't
appreciate her late night song.
Gazing out my frosty window,
I rest my tired head on the metal frame.
Cold wind seeping through,
chilling my veins.
We journeyed on through the moonlit,
northern night.

Seventy -two hours
this silver bus had been my bed.
Three days was plenty of time;
to sit,
think,
and stare.
My eyes were glued to that frontal
beam of projected light,
Mentally stung by the manmade
brightness slashing like a piercing sword,
through the thicket of trees,
where darkness was meant to be.
Evergreens, Birch,
endless fields of lumber.
Interpreted from their winters slumber.
Mature sentinels,
standing silently on guard,
faithful watchman,
of the doomed,
forest play yard.

Hum... numberous wheels under the bus roll,
passing evidence of not being alone.
A wolf lies dead,
stopped in his tracks,
because he wasn't fast enough,
to excape some huge transports path.

Inside our bus shell,
we confident humans slept.
Paid travellers on a concrete road.
Driven by somebody we didn't even know.
Going places we think we aut to go.
Blind faith,
that the driver would follow the safer way.
Blind faith,
reinforced because we prepaid.

Our ride interprets the serenity of natures lands.
All due to civilizations many demands.
Carrying more of that virus called man!
Tramping into natures secret places,
just because he can.
Since he carries the biggest axe.
Into locations he was never asked.

Another travler, another kill.
Mankind, the over-shadower of natures will.


By Linda Nixon...Copyright 1997

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