I swept a whimsical glance down
toward my bicycle tire’s rhythmic hum
and glimpsed a fuzzy flash of brown,
a caterpillar whose time hadn’t come.
I’d missed with but an inch to spare
the collision that would have sealed his fate,
but luck and fortune both were there
to protect when calamities await.
He blithely inched along his way
oblivious to the narrow margin
between wrong place/wrong time today
so for now, he is winning the bargain.
I couldn’t keep from wondering,
as I continued pedaling on past,
if the coming car’s thundering
might yet mark this promenade as his last.
— Barbara Nuzzo
Nuzzo, a Rutgers graduate, is a founding member of Sisters in Crime-Central Jersey and writes mystery stories, non-fiction stories and poetry. Her work has appeared is U.S. 1, Woman’s World, and various anthologies.
