Each day
the drive to
work
is past
a graveyard
green
with new grass
a small brook
in the foreyard,
blossoms
on the trees--
this straight
stretch of
two-lane
country
road between
the two
traffic lights,
marks the
weekday
morning--
the same
and ever new--
some days
there is a
fresh mound
of earth,
or a foundation
for a monument,
or the high rise
mausoleum
that looks like
a hive before
the larva are
set in--
it does not
matter;
it is all on
the same
destination,
and I am
called to
drive.

7 Mar 03

© Copyright 2003, E. Granger-Happ, All Rights Reserved.

Contents - Lent, 2003