AND HEREWITH
(Damascus once more)
All that of pain and horrid sorrow
grows and you wake up to another
day and it all amounts to nothing,
lines carved on a river-rock that
no one can identify and the people
stare as they come and look and the
ravished river courses - trees and
branches now flaming with the new
oranges and reds of Autumn and
the old grizzled farmer steps down
to see what the fuss is about and he
turns and grumbles 'Sam damn fools
Sam, same damn fools' and some
kid with a dirt bike mumbles by and
the canoe rental place closes up for
the season and I end up at the general
store in Milanville where the lady
knows me and is always nice and we
sit and have a sandwich as she goes
about her work as two pick-ups slide
in for gasoline at the pumps - two
lone old-style pumps from days gone
by but they work and except for the
price they're like 1955 and the old
world just keeps running and the
nearby stream gurgles its way over
ancient rocks clawing out from the
ancient soil and the stopgap bridge
awaits its own edges where the old
church blooms with its cemetery
stones all silent and serene.
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