Poem: Sequestered

Sequestered

I say to my little dog, “Wanna go out?”

He gets up on his hind legs and bounces about.

We start up the street and he soon wants to pee

As he tinkles, a bike whizzes past him and me.

I totter along and he pulls back and forth,

Sometimes toward south and sometimes toward north.

We climb a short hill that to us seems quite long

Among silent houses where the people seem gone.

The street stretches empty. In bright planted trees

No sound can be heard but the faint buzz of bees.

I feel like an alien dropped from a plane,

All humans have vanished, their traces remain.

But cars in the driveways let out the truth

They’re there, but retreated, alone and aloof.

                                                            --Ro Mason