Stopping in Antelope
by Maralee Gerke

Poppies and lilacs
wilding in uncut grass, sway
to the trill of a meadowlark
as a distant lawnmower drones
like a swarm of bees stealing
the innocence of flowers.

Centered among sagging houses
the newly painted church tilts
on a fieldstone foundation,
settles into ancient loam,
celebrating every beginning and ending.

A breeze ripples the branches
of venerable locusts and elms
displacing the winds of spring as
summer rides in on a rusting bicycle,
pedals along gravel streets and
stops to gossip with returning birds.

Untouched by the striving that
troubles more populated places
time feels endless here.
Living a borrowed life,
this small town embraces memory,
balanced on the cusp between creation and eternity.



 

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