Waiting for the sun

To search for what is natural.

Cows like winter coats wandering around in the meadows?

Herons like hairy pegs waiting in the small ditches?

And we? We drive in metal boxes along the rigid houses.

Well, this is what happens. Your hands are resting causally

on the steering wheel. Music from the speakers.

The Beatles. "I am the eggman, they are the eggmen."

In order to listen again and again to that woman's voice.

"Please, take the next exit. You must return."

But you're moving on. Is that natural? To want what you want?

A couple of blocks further.

The sun bursts like a fully ripe mango.