Intersection

Here is one of those poems that started with something I thought while driving to school.

                                                    Intersection


                                   A few turn signals flash amber,
                                   like fireflies in the night,
                                   blinking their own Morse Code
                                   of intention and desire,
                                   but most remain dark
                                   and silent, secretive about
                                   where they’re going
                                   until they go.