Fire-Truck By Richard Wilbur

Right down the shocked street with a

siren-blast

That sends all else skittering to the

curb,

Redness, brass, ladders and hats hurl

past,

Blurring to sheer verb,

Shift at the corner into uproarious gear

And make it around the turn in a squall

of traction,

The headlong bell maintaining sure and

clear,

Thought is degraded action!

Beautiful, heavy, unweary, loud,

obvious thing!

I stand here purged of nuance, my

mind a blank.

All I was brooding upon has taken

wing,

And I have you to thank.

As you howl beyond hearing I carry you

into my mind,

Ladders and brass and all, there to

admire

Your phoenix-red simplicity, enshrined

In that not extinguished fire.

In this poem, the poet writes about something we have all seen before, a firetruck. It describes the fear that everyone on the street feels, wondering if anyone is hurt and what will happen. The poet also describes how firemen are heroes, risking their lives to save ordinary people that they don't know. He describes their bravery. We should all be thankful for firemen.