The bus comes at 9 am
Her face is frozen
from silent December winds.
she can hear the engine
groaning like a trembling scream.
Her hands shake at the thought of change.
Going east in autumn
pondering mothers death-
as she deals with the spaciousness of being alone.
All this travel-
aligning herself with the landscape,
and plummeting into an unseen gravity that home has always had.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
The bus comes at 9 am
Her face is frozen
from silent December winds.
she can hear the engine
groaning like a trembling scream.
Her hands shake at the thought of change.
Going east in autumn
pondering mothers death-
as she deals with the spaciousness of being alone.
All this travel-
aligning herself with the landscape,
and plummeting into an unseen gravity that home has always had.
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