05-01-2017, 01:56 AM
 Driving to Town for Groceries
Sun sweeps a pioneer cemetery
on the right side of the road up ahead–
vacant, like a place that once was sacred.
I think of who the seven graves may hold.
My great, great uncle, two infant girls and
four persons from the farm site next over.
The grove behind holds broken tangled limbs.
Twisted knots and knuckles from the right view
seem like human features and gray faces.
My dog leans on his front paws on the dash
watches a flock of Canadian geese
on the receding ice of a field lake.
Deer will be on the move again at dusk.
The northern plains are starting to warm.
There is music when there is nothing else.
Sun sweeps a pioneer cemetery
on the right side of the road up ahead–
vacant, like a place that once was sacred.
I think of who the seven graves may hold.
My great, great uncle, two infant girls and
four persons from the farm site next over.
The grove behind holds broken tangled limbs.
Twisted knots and knuckles from the right view
seem like human features and gray faces.
My dog leans on his front paws on the dash
watches a flock of Canadian geese
on the receding ice of a field lake.
Deer will be on the move again at dusk.
The northern plains are starting to warm.
There is music when there is nothing else.