mhall46184@aol.com
A Baton, But No Orchestra
Majestic in their yellow-painted shields
Imperious trumping traffic lights command
Through glares of green and red, and garish orange
Obedience in all the traffic below
How sad - there is no traffic to command
Though once there was, before the lordly lights
Were lifted up: a little town was here
With pharmacies, feed stores, hardware, and cafes
And a movin’-picture show. All gone now.
And then the state put up the traffic lights
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