Poem: Red Light

One must stop to understand the meaning of the light.

Red Light

Under  
a gray-blanket sky   
on a two-lane blacktop
south of Ovando, we come
upon a red light, a traffic light,
extended by an orange metal rod out
over the road, an empty road, no intersection,
no one around, and we look at each other, what the hell,
and decide oh well, guess we better stop.
We have time to follow the law.
It soon becomes apparent  
just how meaningful   
stopping can be,
whether for
a red light,
elk herd,
hail storm,
glaring look,
or Memorial Day,
as it allows you to pause,
take stock, check yourself, and inquire:  
Is this the right way? Why is that red light here?
Is this a wildlife crossing or something? What do we do now?
Jesus Christ, how much longer do we have to sit here?
Once your mind has run itself ragged, you relax.
Of course, you could just blow through
the red light. But there might be
a camera. Get a stupid ticket.
Where’s the fun anyway?
You ran a red light
on an empty
road with
not even
a cow
to witness.
Not something
you’d crow about.  
So you open the doors, sit back,
take in the land and sky and silence.    
Your mind wanders, ponders, conjures up forgotten
moments from the past and with your filters down like
car windows you say truthful things you’ve never
before uttered. You relieve yourself.
You close your eyes
and see that all
problems
can be
solved here.
Everything becomes clear.
Epiphanies float like bubbles in the air
and you are suddenly aware of the
meaning of the light.
It’s so simple!
You open your eyes
and, voila, the light turns green.  
Doors close, wheels engage, life is back in gear.  
“Finally!” you shout.  

So, what were  
we talking
about?