Alive Poem by Cheyenne Price

A light fog rises full of surprises
a trash compactor prevents collide
whether stride or glide we move about
as though the concrete is obliged

construction screams be wary
a natural warning in truth more scary
caution take heed
beaten roadway battles curbside weed
be it wide, be it free
a traveler's prairie

open road, uneven lane
bump ahead, grade change
a few sharp curves to test the nerves
moving past, moving fast
the journey starts to wane

obey the paint, follow the chalk
comfort now, soaked from the clouds
more settled down than previously thought
traffic's roar, afraid no more
conversations with the wind
indeed my friend the streets do talk


(9/5/05)