Lights

We drove along, my folks and me,And siblings, categorically,I don’t know where we all had been,Now we were heading home again.
Along the road, its twists and curves,Dad drove along with care. And swerves.And I, with nose against the glassWas watching small poles that we passed.
Each one lit up when we drove by,When passed, went dark. I wondered why,And how they knew just when to light,To keep us safe, when out at night.
Then all at once, there in my brain,I had an im-pres-sion, again.Quite suddenly, for sure, I knew,What lit the poles there in my view.
Each pole was lighted just for me,By little ‘pole men’ I can’t see.Their lighting was a perfect mix,Of strength, agility, and sticks.
‘Twas kind of them, I’m sure you know,To flip that little switch below.And light the pole for us to see,So we could navigate safely.
I thanked them, each and every one,“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Done.My mom looked back inquiringly,“What are you doing, Dear?” asked me.
“I’m thanking all the pole guys, Mom.”Confused, she frowned at me, said, “Ummm…Okay. If that’s what makes you glad.”Then turned and shook her head at dad.
All this was many years ago,And I learned fast. (And sometimes slow.)And whether old, or youngest waif,That life has lights. They keep you safe.
And when you've safely passed on through,Please thank your little pole men, too.
Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we three besought,To try to make the week begin,With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?So Jenny and Delores, we,Now post our poems for you to see.
And when you’ve read what we have brought,Did we help? Or did we not . . .
And next week, cause we've seen the light, We tackle 'PEOPLE' with our might!