J.H. Dickinson Poetry, Essays and Art By J.H. Dickinson from All-Creatures.org

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Roads of self-importance

I drive,
hemmed in,
pushed hard.

No - slow down,
in sight.

I see you, roadside,
beauty in nature,
confused.

Outlined form,
ears aloft,
you attempt the move
I dread most.

Slight of body,
roads rushing with
machines
that dwarf you.

I can’t stop to help you,
but I turn around
and come back.
I must see your fate.

Red,
discarded moment.
You are gone from this world.

And I feel pure rage.
Darkness,
hollowed out fury.

Why can we not take note?
Stop -
in momentary awareness.
Both lanes
of humans, reverent
of small form,
making its way to new fielded freedom.

An ending.
Your ending.
Eradicated.
Without much thought.
As we drive,
on roads of human self-importance.

title and rabbit pictures

© 2025 J.H. Dickinson

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