
Unexpected Intrusions
The driver behind me slams
on their horn—tires screech.
Cars on either side of us aren’t moving.
Artificially frigid air blasts through the vents
but can’t compete with the power of sunbeams
that penetrate the streaked windshield.
Beads of sweat form on tiny hairs at my temples
my eyes squint away the light, my jaw clenches.
My hand tries to block its intensity.
In the gap between my hand and the dusty dashboard
a flash of bright orange and black.
The Monarch swoops,
dives, and dances outside my car
soaks up the sun’s warmth in its delicate wings.
For the butterfly, this traffic jam
is a perfect audience.
Rows of drivers and passengers
held in place to enjoy the show.
My raised hand lowers, the other loosens its grip
on the steering wheel. I release a breath
and the tension in my jaw, sit back
and take in the beauty.
