When the radio announced all clear,
I headed to the college campus where
I worked, not the first time that the chemical
plant next door
had leaked substances with
forgettable names, a fire reportedly
contained, its cloud drifting southwest,
dissipating.
Traffic flowed on an interstate
recently bottled up, and some of us
exited onto a ramp that arcs
over the plant,
where local news was filming
an aerial shot for evening broadcast.
Snowflakes, maybe, scattered across
the windshield
and above us, sun rays like those
in Jesus pictures broke through a sky
heavy with particles that may
betray us all.
“Snowflakes, maybe…sun rays…particles that may betray,” an accurate juxtaposition of the natural and the chemical, the faith and the threat of daily life.