Like...

Like the lowering arm and red flashing lights
that shift downward to block a car,
in the still of the nebulous night,
at the sound of a toot from afar;

Like the rising, glimmering, ball of fire,
into a misty gray sky,
after the downpour from the mire;
the tears accompanying a cry;

Like the crash of a wave, lathering the shore;
showering over the granules and shells;
rushing backward--then a flush--
all the bank compelled;

Like the painted horses moving up and down;
twirling til' the ride comes to an end;
never wanting to get back on the ground
because sight is not open 'round the bend;

Like the slow rising of fresh-baking dough;
rich morsels donating a lucious aroma,
practically thrusting right out of the stove,
but graduation follows diploma.

March 14, 1991