waiting for the bus

the blinking yellow light pierces the darkness
"how long until the bus arrives?
maybe I should have just driven home"
a hurried traveler accelerates quickly through the intersection
to where I don't know
its cloud of exhaust is the only thing left to remember it by
yet that cloud is gone in a blink of the yellow light
I step onto the bus
an unintended gratitude greets me
"the coin machine isn't working, this one's on me"
as I get off three other riders follow
we split off into three different directions
a long walk home is still before me
"drip, drip, drip"
the melting snow is playing me a cadence to guide my steps

it seems as though winter is ending before it truly began
I am impatient for Christmas, longing for more snow
yet, I desire a cadence to slow me down, to appreciate
the drip, drip, drip of the snow ...
the clink, clink, clink of un-used change ...
the cloud of exhaust lit up by the yellow blink, blink, blinking light