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.
