Reclamation

This quiet road,
how long since we last saw a car?

A gas station?

We don’t really need the map,
there is only one road.
We use it anyway,
to see where we have been,
where we are going.

There is a town on the map,
just a dot really,
but we won’t be stopping here.

Broken windows,
in a town long forgotten,
no longer reflect for the dust.

Time has not been kind to you.

I saw a piece of grass
growing in the paint flaked siding of a building
the one with more holes than shingles on the roof.

I wonder about the path of the seed,
the purpose.

Nature reclaiming
what was once hers.

Removing the scar
that mankind had put upon her with a seed.

© Michele Markley 2008