Concern

Following the linear constellation
of cat's eyes,
I take the road.
Headlights, feeling the way,
reveal no other traveller
by foot or wheel:
only, on either side,
the long scene–shift of hedge
and roadside tree,
bleached to bone–white.

The road arches its back,
Over the top
diffuse light grows:
sharpens to scissor–blades,
then, in a pounce
becomes leonine eyes
glaring in mine.

Correctly courteous
each retracts the glare
to tolerable length.
I glance, but catch no glimpse
of fellow–traveller, peering face,
or hands at ten to two
on fellow wheel.

We pass.
The cat's eyes prick out of the dark again,
lighting the way home.
Who was the roadster,
journeying late,
journeying east as I go westwards?
Homewards, like me?
Or on some outward quest?
Eaten by grief?
Simmering with joy?
A woman or a man?

I ponder only briefly.
Headlights reel out once more
the empty scene–shift of the road,