The Irony Of Immense Sunlight On A Dead-End Highway Poem by Robert Rorabeck

A few words on the otherwise
Empty slate remind me of,



A forest mortally burned,
The flight of useless animals




Ghosts who don’t leave tracks
In the snow,
The swift panther who does for them,




A highway on a flat and burnished sea,
Heading from Homestead south to the
Limestone shelves,



A tortoise in a long and eerie wave,




An albatross approaching pale thunderheads,




A gravestone in an otherwise empty field,
A lonely soldier,
But dear enough to remember;




Of how far away you are,
That you don’t care how often I misspell a few
Love letters,



The irony of immense sunlight on
A dead-end highway
Which might have once led home.