Driving Into Sunset

A poem.


The butterflies are playing
too close to the highway,
as if sucked into a vortex
of car current and monarch dashes.
Twilight floods the road
until it becomes a purple river
sweeping around the bend.
Fluttering wings become flashing fins
and I am a fisherman now,
not walking on water but waiting,
watching for some ripple to remind me
it's time to go ashore.

Recommended: Could you pass a US citizenship test?

Share this story:

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.