The night hour winter highway lay across village, brook, and farm,

Reaching for tomorrow’s sunlight, and the waking country charm.

Along its many smooth black miles moved fear and pride and hate

Of those whose destination would be leagues from Heaven’s gate.

The muffled rumble of the Lawman’s pass gave ease to homes asleep,

As he searched the night with lights of dread for those in Satan’s keep.

Electronic messengers riding waves of truth broke through the still night air,

Bringing news of evil in a red sedan headed west on the thoroughfare.

Sixteen miles of curve and hill lay between duty and fleeing sin,

But the Trooper’s skill at sustained high speed soon closed the gap to ten.

Slowing past the pre-dawn farms and crossroads dark and blind,

He kept the safety of those he served always foremost in his mind.

Speed regained where speed was safe he kept the game alive,

And as he crossed the county line, the miles apart were five.

The car ablaze with flashing blue now crossed the river bridge,

And left its marks on the valley road as it headed for the ridge.

Down the other side he flew, a ghost in the winter night,

For in the curves that lay ahead, he had the car in sight.

The siren tore through glass and steel, but on the demon fled,

Into the dawn that held no hope for he whose hopes were dead.

Bumpers tapped, and tapped again, and so the felon knew

The race was done and he had lost to the relentless flashing blue.