On Interstate 80, five miles per hour at best. Ten miles of backup: a cop car at roadside.

Raven rifles shrubs at the highway verge.

Clutch depressed, first gear, pull forward ten feet. Clutch again and neutral.  She breaks off a willow branch. It is pencil-thin, longer than she is.

Geese cross the highway. A Volvo wagon cuts me off: half a mile per hour.

Raven flies to the light pole, perches. She waves her wand at us. A conductor. Four thousand drivers in view, one watching her. 

1. 
   Emily 2006 03 14 at 8:30:32 pm

   Ah.  Raven readying the nest.

   How fortunate we are that you take the time to observe such activity in the midst of all the chaos, and draw such a lovely word picture for us.

   Thanks.

2. 
   Mike Anderson 2006 03 15 at 2:06:04 am

   Quoth the raven: “Highway 4”

3. 
   Jym 2006 03 15 at 3:23:13 pm

   =v= If only “four score” scanned. :^)