Sonnet For A Friday Dusk

The cars go back and forth behind the fence.
A stream of traffic flows on past my yard
Unceasing. So it's gone and will go hence:
The white and then the red lights. It's not hard
To get annoyed at this and wonder why
So many people must go rushing past.
Just to and fro, and fro and to. The sky
Is deepening, dark blue, then black at last,
And out comes Venus, Mars and then the Moon
(At full, or nearly so), and still bright lights
In white, then red, zip by. I know that soon
The flow will slow somewhat; it does most nights.
But right now it's a rapid metronome,
The sights and sounds that tell me I'm at home.

In Which I Shake My Fist At The Construction Gods

Dell Range at my end is right now a maze

Of cones and barrels and ugly VM signs.

I'm to the east, so should I get a craze

To go somewhere on business, my designs

Do force always a left turn, which is hard

Enough against the traffic when there's not

Construction out there. I am often barred

From moving as the minutes tick. I've got

A store of patience, but it sure wears thin

Now that the traffic's down to just two lanes

And those so hard to see. A hot place in

Street planning hell awaits, with bright orange chains

For those who made this happen, I decree.

Of course, I know that's not quite up to me.