Traffic Jam (Sonnet)

The Mack truck, slow stall, karma messenger,
brings news of red brake lights, traffic, driving,
stop lights, tail lights, headlights ahead up there,
delays, dead ends, unsure time arriving.

Inching up, I wait for the fog to clear.
Blinding rain washes away my striving
for duty bound, to reach my dreams, to steer
my course onward. In time. Unsurprising

detours disappoint me. Conspiracy
to stop my path, no-show plans limit speed.
Surrender to the sky, the tyranny
of time no more a thing to heed, no need

to run. The slownesses infuriate.
Take in the air, deep breath, luxuriate.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


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