By sarah dragonfleyes@excite.com
Date: 28 December 2000
on holy ground
we would weave
between lanes
the distinct white lines
covered with the brushing of snow
that hasn't stopped falling
since the moment
the darkness fell
she would look out her window
tears silent
lips quivering
her eyes searching out the shadows
fingers holding to each other
waiting
he would stomp around sometimes
with angry grunts
exuding every time his foot came down
then he would throw his head back
in frustration
and yell to the sky
she sat in her rocking chair
the chair she has sat in for years
and did her knitting, quietly placidly
gently humming to herself songs
she had learned when she was a child
and could barely speak english
the flowers are frozen
though they were put there
mere hours before
the ground hard and unyielding
the whisper of wind as it blew
through the dead leaves still gathered
on the maples
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