Waiting at Lights

I have joined the community of people who wait at traffic lights.
Curbside I stand, shuffle my feet—
Glance at the red—still red—and obey.
Strange for these moments, no rush and no bustle
No hazarding vainly:
Because I could not stop for lights
They’d kindly stop for me.
Off in the distance, the screech of a stop short, the rustle of trees in the wind.
Is this what it’s like
To wait at a light?
Who knew?
Still. Red. I will not be cross,
Will not cross.
I smile and lift up my arm
To wave at the man on the other side
Waiting like me – does he think me a stranger?
Oh welcome me sir
To the community of people who wait at lights,
Greet me, entreat me
To enter this stillness, this silent suspension
This wondrously new world of waiting at lights.

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