Sirens sing. Should I heed the law of their lure? Steer my craft aground? Their beauty by watery reflection, shimmering, coming ever clearer as the distance ‘tween us diminishes. Nearer, their call—pervading, consuming—as the mating cry of the blue whale.
Closer now, filling my horizon. Every raindrop holds their light; all air holds their song. I can’t hold my line. Others cede to their appeal and change course.
With a sense of urgency that overwhelms, I obey too.
I’m marooned, waiting for what will pass. Two wheels on the kerb, while police sirens—whooping, wailing, and blue—scream by.