Once
I had to return home
but
the door was locked,
the
house for sale and a stranger
had
to be called to open the door
with
a new key. The cypress tree
by
the driveway had been cut
down
when I was a child; the one
in
the front yard survived
the
subdivision until its branches
tangled
the power lines during
a
hurricane. But the impression
in
the yard is still there, though,
right
where the stump was,
suggesting
an eventual subsidence
into
original swamp.
Photograph by Yagan Z Dongobar via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
mysterious impressions
ReplyDeleteone just never knows
Dust to dust...
ReplyDeleteI love the eternal nature of surrender that your poem evokes.
sounds like the beginning of a novel.
ReplyDelete