Two cars, two strangers,
Side by side, by the side
of a country road.
Human fenceposts,
fixed, yet watchful.
Odd, perhaps
they’re with their dogs?
A quick glance in the
tear-view mirror and I see!
Sky-big fire ribbons streak across
the coal-black timbers edging the field.
In the center,
the giant sun ball
falls slowly to earth.
I reach for my camera,
flip the snap the toss the case
in one quick move,
only to see
Jack 0’ lantern trees
backlit in sky embers.
I missed it (another small regret).
Then, turning the corner onto Argilla,
a form takes shape in the amber light.
A golden-haired boy,
12, maybe 13,
crouching,
eyes fire-bright,
suspended in pure radiance
Argilla is a street I passe on the way to Crane's Beach in Ipswich. It borders rolling fields of horses, cows, and a wolf reserve.
