Randolph, Iowa

That urgent, almost frenzied, movement
One sees on the sidewalks of a city
Doesn't take place here. The people
Almost all are old. Half the buildings
In the two-block heart of downtown
Now are closed, so there's nowhere
For them to go. The pharmacy,
The old stone church, the bar with
Its bricked-over windows. Since we
Know each other, it's not possible
To mutely pass someone. One has
To stop and speak. "How's your
Mother?" "How's your heart?"
"The rain's not made it easy to get
Out and start to plant the corn."
Each query's met with mild
Complaints. Each visit on the
Sidewalk in the warm and timeless
Springtime sun concludes when
We've learned everything, the facts
We'll pass on when we meet
Somebody else a block away,
Another who, like us, is old,
And all-too used to how things
Go on sidewalks in this little
Town. We feel no urgency.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 80 times
Written on 2017-05-06 at 16:22

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