August 25, 2013

• Heidelberg, along the River,

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heidelberg

  

  . . . and a poem unrelated to the photo.

  The Ramp 

  Neighbors who walk our street 

  notice that the ramp constructed 

  with the bend toward the driveway, 

  is gone after only three days.  

   

  New planks of pine

  screwed in place to welcome you

  never greet the wheels 

  that expected to transport you to familiarity, 

  to warmth, to man’s best friend 

  and to the peace of returning home.

   

  Cars gathered around the ramp-less walkway 

  like bees at blossoms drinking in bits of nectar.  

  They want a taste of you that lasts. 

   

  In anguish most rend their mental cloth 

  at missing a clasp from your creased palm. 

  Each offspring promulgates unfinished issues 

  with your lingering spirit.

   

  In life your skilled hands crafted love 

  into objects made from sawlogs. 

  Now in death you imprint endearment 

  in the hearts of those you leave behind.

  • 4:22 pm
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