---

 

I Wait

Molly Wendtland

I wait for a bus
where there is no stop,
but it’s not frequent that
public transportation traverses
this country-roaded dead end.

I hear distantly
dogs barking,
22 shots firing,
and an occasional
rooster’s crow.

I take in leaves –
examples of every
lobe and venation type,
colors from at least
seven of the eight
in the crayon box –

I smell the chlorophyll,
the sand made mud
by last night’s rain,
feel the earth
at my fingertips,
and yet I wait.
Here, I wait.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...