Yesterday I was THAT PERSON. I’m sorry. I know my lame gesture of apology didn’t help. Thank you for not honking immediately whenever the light turned green.

I was driving to meet a friend when the phone rang. I guessed who would be calling. She was. It wasn’t a huge emergency. But it sort of was. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. When I did, I became THAT PERSON.

I promise to forgive the next driver using a cell phone who causes me a moment’s inconvenience. Except of course if the cars have actually crunched together.

I’m sorry.

So…to lighten up a little. I no longer commute to work. From my study window at home, I can see–and mainly hear–the traffic on the street I used to travel every day for more than forty years. Perhaps there’s a shift in today’s world towards living close to where we work, to end the necessity of the maddening and time-consuming daily drive. Meanwhile, it happens.

GOOSE SENSE
 

The Canada geese on their morning commute
from the north to the south of the lake
are the crankiest crowd on the aerial route.
What hubbub of honking they make.
 
I’ll hear, as the evening puts on its display,
the same gaggle of geese going forth,
ending their day in the noisiest way
as they flap from the south to the north.
 
The north and the south and the east and the west
look alike to my innocent eye.
This daily commotion may be for the best.
But only a goose would know why.

 

 

Barbara Loots