The Moving Cave

Plodding along the slushy, salted highway road

At a more cautious, slower speed,

I glance over to the right as some movement catches my eye.

It is a city bus, making stops in the late afternoon.

But the whole of its left side and back is one caked-on, plastered wall of dirty brown snow.

I cannot look inside to see passengers.

I don’t imagine they can look out those “walled” windows.

As the bus comes to the next stop, I wonder….

Do the passengers notice a darkness to the bus interior?

Before they enter?

Once they have found their spot?

They seem to venture inside, feeling the need to get on with their business,

Perhaps not even noticing the moving cave in which they temporarily seek refuge.

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