I swept a whimsical glance down

toward my bicycle tire’s rhythmic hum

and glimpsed a fuzzy flash of brown,

a caterpillar whose time hadn’t come.

I’d missed with but an inch to spare

the collision that would have sealed his fate,

but luck and fortune both were there

to protect when calamities await.

He blithely inched along his way

oblivious to the narrow margin

between wrong place/wrong time today

so for now, he is winning the bargain.

I couldn’t keep from wondering,

as I continued pedaling on past,

if the coming car’s thundering

might yet mark this promenade as his last.

— Barbara Nuzzo

Nuzzo, a Rutgers graduate, is a founding member of Sisters in Crime-Central Jersey and writes mystery stories, non-fiction stories and poetry. Her work has appeared is U.S. 1, Woman’s World, and various anthologies.

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