Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Shovel Leaning against a Graveyard Wall

After the cleansing downpour, 
I like to think the muddied pool 
Left in the scoop of the shovel 
Reflects on a clear blue sky, 
There in the sweet by-and-by— 

Where a spade is always a spade, 
No matter how 
Many times it’s been buried 
By upright citizens 
Covering up one more lie. 


  1. Beautiful! Not at all where I thought the poem would end up: from sweet nature poem to tart social comment. What a fine swerve!

  2. Thanks, Joe--reminds me of that old line "Round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows"--though we all know, even Tom's six-sensed canine.


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