A slumbering basilisk
With every breath
Smoke stacks steadily journey
Their skyward ascend.

Lights embraced
Fade in and out of view
As branching tendrils
Canopy those who travel

Early morning traffic
Both sides of 75.
Lows illuminating the way
Guide until sunlight’s glare

Awakens the beast.
Startle him to move on
And clear the way;
Give an undisrupted view

For highway regulars
Rushing to guzzle precious gas—
Slowpokes driving 20 below;
Same as every day before.