Easter Occasion Poem

Crowded pews, huddled masses
of still and silent sheep
surrounded by spring flowers.
Followers?

Or lives spent floundering
in muck and mire, aimless
wandering in an empty tomb,
searching for a body
in an abandoned grave?

Perhaps they fell asleep in the pasture
and did not see their shepherd ascend.
What will it take to awaken them;
to resurrect them?

List Poem

Going Home

Miles of road passes beneath our wheels

like an unraveled roll of film.
It spans the route 

between here and there and

my side window plays a scene
from that old film being rewound.

Objects pass quickly through my lens--
familiar, distant sights: 

a rusty blue tractor, a muddy pasture,
a telephone pole,

an old, tied-out retriever, an abandoned sugar shack,

a nondescript convenience store,
a telephone pole,

another telephone pole,
a man and his wife walking along side the road,
children playing in a field,
their mother leaning outside of a red, side door
calling them inside for dinner.

a telephone pole. 

Miles of old footage spans the route

between here and there;

between the present and past.