2.18

whiteout winds cross the

highway, ice track grooves

twist tires, treachery by

nature limning what we

can do whether we know it

or not.

cars strew backwards, slide

swipe, fling wide into the

drifts by centrifugal forces

that four-wheels into drive

scatter

on moving sideways.

so carelessly we assume

we can handle it all, as if

explorers of profound

power, rather than

lillies of our own valley

gone to seed.

caution, caution, step lightly

little tiger, lest biting things

arise

to put you in your place

as a puppetized player.

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