Classic Poem

— where a heavy
woven-wire fence
topped with jagged ends, encloses
a long cinder-field by the river —
A concrete disposal tank at
one end, small wooden
pit-covers scattered about — above
sewer intakes, most probably —

Down the center's a service path
graced on one side by
a dandelion in bloom — and a white
butterfly —

The sun parches still
the parched grass. Along
the fence, blocked from the water
leans the washed-out street —

Three cracked houses —
a willow, two chickens, a
small boy, with a home-made push cart,
walking by, waving a whip —

Gid ap! No other traffic or
like to be.
There to rest, to improvise and
unbend! Through the fence

beyond the field and shining
water, 12 o'clock blows
but nobody goes
other than the kids from school —