"Streetlights" copyright 2012 © Emily B. Maurer
Three nights ago
The sentinel streetlamp
In front of our house
Extinguished itself.
Our dim porch light struggled
To keep the darkness
At bay.
The next morning
My daughter called the power company
To report the outage.
The cordial woman who answered
Gave her a confirmation number
And no time frame for repair.
That night the street
Remained in darkness.
This ashen afternoon
A turkey vulture lighted
Atop the cross
On the village church spire.
The buzzard spread
Its black wings
In horaltic pose
And raised the hackles
On its crimson neck.
“Look!” I pointed, “an omen!”
“Omens are made by men,”
My wife said,
And resumed her needle point
In silence on the veranda.
When next I looked
The bird was gone.
The spire shone golden
In late afternoon sun.
This evening
Before our house
Above the cars parked
In the snow-covered street
The sentinel streetlamp
Once again casts its yellow cone.
Copyright 2012 © Brian T. Maurer
