Monday, January 26, 2015


A golden eagle sit upon the fence post --
It stares, it watches, following the car
That pulls into the truck stop. Gravel crunches
Beneath the tires. It is the first sound
These women heard besides the engine's whir
Since entering the West Virginia mountains.
Not even the bull grazing in the pasture
Wants to disturb the silence. Car doors slam.
The women both get out, approach the truck
Stop door, starting at the ding! of the front
Door bell. A man looks up, a lion's mane
Of auburn hair cascading down his back.
He watches as the angels, children-faced,
Cross to the bar. He wonders what they ask,
Where they are going. Does he have a chance
Of joining them? Informed, they leave, and one
Stops, pausing just outside the door to pluck
The trumpet flower lily near the door.

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