Uploaded on December 9, 2011
From a city window, ‘way up high,
I like to watch the cars go by,
They look like burnished beetles black,
That leave a little muddy track
Behind them as they slowly crawl.
Sometimes they do not move at all
But huddle close with hum and drone
As though they feared to be alone.
They grope their way through fog and night
With the golden feelers of their light.
—Rowena Bastin Bennett
Favorite Poems Old and New
edited by Helen Ferris
12.09.2023: I remember that night. Dennis’s car had broken down. Thankfully, he wasn’t far from home.