big things take care of small things.
so the big sister pats and doesn’t squeeze,
the baby uncurls fingers from the tail of the cat,
we squeal, packages topple to the floorboard
while the squirrel prances in the tunnel beneath us,
we weave, and the turtle tucks into a palm-sized shell,
as if resigned that the next car’s wheel
will climb on top of its back.
and I know, against all reason,
that despite two tons of heavy armor,
the driver feels a tremble.