Margaret V.Doran
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I cried when I saw them
the ancient post cards
one after another
ashes in the wind
Swinging in the breeze
ropes over branches
of spreading trees
ancient trees, strong
for the weary to take shelter
and find respite from blazing sun
now ashes in the wind
Wisps of smoke
just little puffs are left
almost invisible amongst the leaves
High up in the branches
of this stately tree
where birds used to nest
are ashes in the wind
Bare toes swing gently
from the sturdy rope
beneath calico
Where, before she died
she watched her son
hung a living torch
his ashes in the wind
Written in response to the web site "Without Sanctuary" as part of the study of U.S. History at Chemeketa Community College.
Copyright © 2001 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.
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