New Poem

This is 30/30 poem #2.


Evening pulses against the commuter rail
as it groans the last of the weary commuters home,

rhythmic as breaking waves. Under the halo
of streetlamps, the autumn grass grows unhemmed,

each blade a factory at work, silent in its duty
to the soil, the yard, the hands that loved it from seed.

Years come quickly, almost wordless, private as houses,
which makes the walk home even lovelier.

I am grateful for this quiet magnificence.
For the train as it presses on in the dark

like a murmur, like a soft wind quivering
over surburbia, reminding me

that the only thing this life owes
any of us is an ending.


Anonymous said…
A beautiful, quite poem J - I really love it - I have such a clear image of a brisk darkening walk toward the warmth and finish of home.

And yeah, all it owes us is an ending.

I needed this today. Thanks.
Anonymous said…
Very nice. The ending is my favorite line, I also like "private like houses".
Catherine said…
I love the bit about the grass being unhemmed, and the whole third stanza.
I did think that the "halo of streetlamps" is a bit of a cliche. But I am always amazed at the quality of your work when you are writing a poem a day.
odessa said…
oh, i love this! its how i feel about taking long evening walks. definitely one of my favorites of yours.
Rethabile said…
Wonderful lines. When that book getting published?

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