Right down the shocked street with a <br /> siren-blast <br />That sends all else skittering to the <br /> curb, <br />Redness, brass, ladders and hats hurl <br /> past, <br /> Blurring to sheer verb, <br /> <br />Shift at the corner into uproarious gear <br />And make it around the turn in a squall <br /> of traction, <br />The headlong bell maintaining sure and <br /> clear, <br /> Thought is degraded action! <br /> <br />Beautiful, heavy, unweary, loud, <br /> obvious thing! <br />I stand here purged of nuance, my <br /> mind a blank. <br />All I was brooding upon has taken <br /> wing, <br /> And I have you to thank. <br /> <br />As you howl beyond hearing I carry you <br /> into my mind, <br />Ladders and brass and all, there to <br /> admire <br />Your phoenix-red simplicity, enshrined <br /> In that not extinguished fire. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Robert Fish<br /><br />Richard Wilbur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-fire-truck/
