Beneath the Veil

Beneath the Veil of snow in winter

Beneath the bloom of flower in spring.

The decay of age the stench of misery

Rises from the wood and hills between.

House and fern,

tree and flower,

Stalk of blackberry and

June’s wild rose bower.

Lost amongst this thorn and thistle

Wrapped in the vine behind the hedge.

Leaning against the Hickory trunk

In the yard a garden with a few  last year’s veg.

Out the windows small stark faces

Peek from behind tattered torn curtains

Large doe eyes, wistful with hope

Shy smiles escape, and disappear, uncertain.

Not a shack, not a shed

Just a house, very old it is said.

Belonged to some great grand-sire , long since past

Who knew how to build a house to last.

Three trucks in the yard, of various vintage.

Two cars- one works, and one -----.

A stack of tires, and a motor on blocks of unknown lineage.

None of them licensed, hope they will run.

Hope of a job has long since gone past.

The factory closed down

And the mill is locked up fast.

Work don’t happen, not in this town.

But look at their faces ---

Those five little children.

They are so filled with joy,

 with love clean and simple.

They don’t know they are poor

They don’t know they do without

They have family who love them

Isn’t that what life is about?

Their plight is desperate

Their needs are great

But they have something we’re missing.

Maybe we need to find out  what it is

 before it is too late.