Now The Answers Will Come
The avenue beats a discordant symphony.
Street lamps circle dim around the moths.
Terriers strut tethered taut to widows’ wrists.
Teamsters haul their loads up to the docks.
Far off sirens race beneath an ash-filled sky.
Jane packs up her empty can and pleading signs,
Warms her suckling daughter at her breast
And wheels her stroller to the bridge.
~ ~ ~
Charred bone and ashes
Ride buckled in the back seat
Bumpy road back home
~ ~ ~
Homeward bound
Ash on ash
Phoenix doth not fly there
~ ~ ~
Morning charcoal wakes them with her silent fury.
Tawny finch and cardinal friends compete for crumbs.
Ceiling fan quiet still its dusty blades stalled up there.
Nature gentle whispers tender soothe the aged oak.
Rolling doors bang, slam and howl down at the tracks.
Them on motored rubber dare the signal cries out red.
Sirens scream like arrows pierce billows toward the smoke.
Angel five on her birthday skips merry off to school.
~ ~ ~