the traffic cop

The cars rounded about,

each blurring by the

traffic cop centered

in that busy city circle.

With thoughts drifting

to the peaceful yogi

posing in the sun,

the reflective monk

sitting under the tree,

a calm blew through.

Wordless in a loud

world, planted in an

unrooting city,

the traffic cop

is in nirvana.

When can the

nirvana be reached?

Not only before the

civilized world was

built, not only in times

of solitude; at all moments

when it is sought.