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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