Doppler

The TV’s off. The room is cold.

I’m feeling every year of being old.

And then from down the highway miles

it cuts through all the rank and files.

A siren wails, a lonely sound

that never quite touches the ground.

It dips in pitch as it passes the light

and disappears into the night.

I saw the blue reflected there

upon the glass and through the air.

A flickering ghost that came to say

somebody’s world just blew away.