ROAD SIGN

Spurning car I walk home
Amid the evening's drab recessional
Procession of hopes that fade like fumes
Before the opening of front doors
A rusting road sign signals me
"How often do they notice?" I ask
"Dented and weather-faded as you are?"
And rudely answer on its behalf
"Only when they need me."


School run and hearse I would suppose
Make daily use of you
Pointing as you do 
That right turn
Takes you to the school while 
Left to the crematorium leads
No more than simple stated facts
Amid the stream of passing lights
People always hurrying past, heads closed,  
Preoccupied in present
Dogs defecate where you stand 
And yet you don't complain.

You don't complain because you know 
That satellites will free-fall from sky
And batteries are apt to die 
And the blessed GPS 
Will drive us all in circles
Then park us neatly in a mess.

You know that when our toys break down
And once again we seek direction
You'll still be here for all of us
Season-wrought and resolute
Dependable, unchanging 
Mapping out our destinations
Turn left or right or straight ahead
Your simple trusted navigation.

(c) S Evans 2014