Transit Gloria!

Links of the porch rail
Guard house from yard beyond--
A fictitious jail.

Mysterious post
Hidden in the underbrush
In my own front yard.

First frost on the ground
Painting the shaded grass white--
Whispers of winter.












Somewhere a tractor
Chugs into the shouts of men;
Straining through the woods.

She sits in her car
Radio news deafening;
Reads mail in silence.








Illuminated:
One log lit up in the woods--
Its time in the sun.


Only my footsteps
And the scraping of dry leaves
Break moment's silence.












This sprawling rock pile
Was once a stolid stone fence.
Transit gloria!