A ROAD RUNS THROUGH IT

Endorphin bound, we humans
sometimes pack compressed loads,
test the fabric of mind and flesh

like the old joggers focused
on the haze at road’s end
as footfalls pump within their brains.

Blaze orange and magenta tunics,
fists like pistons she can feel
in the corner of her pasture,

one lags the other, but coming
closer, blowing harder
as she wheels to get away

through two fences, wire screeching
into the roadway. They pursue her
without stopping for two miles—

before she gets to ground she doesn’t
know, then leaps another to get free.
It’s contagious, all that determination

up and down a road that is no secret
to armies of Harleys and bright-hued
bicyclists, daredevils on crotch rockets,

four-wheel drives dragging trailers
of more toys within the stream of weekend
Christians speeding towards their God.

We have become the obstacles, or part
of the scenery they never see. We pray
before we cross the road to changing times.