Down at the Crossroads

A photograph of a quiet,
Rather dreary rural landscape
With a blue-mountained horizon,

Scattered shabby, low farmhouses
Along a gravel road through green
Still blossomless in early spring,

But without a single person
Anywhere in sight, reminds you,
Oddly, of a 3D maps app

You once enjoyed wasting time with,
Using a virtual headset
And its randomizing option.

When you clicked, the app removed you
To some random intersection
Photographed in three dimensions,

Somewhere on the recent planet.
Then you could turn in a circle
For the view in all directions.

There might be quite a few buildings,
Or none—a wall, a field, some woods,
A reservoir or river near.

Every view was still and empty
Of anyone or of any
Signs of human activity—

No pedestrians, no cyclists,
No vehicles caught in passing,
Not on the road or in the sky—

Vaguely post-apocalyptic,
As ordinary moments are
When full of the world and no one.