The pavement is cracked.
It is also wet, last night a light rain
fell and the day’s sun has not yet had the chance to lift it.
Weeds grow from the cracks, happy and
green.
A train trundles past on the level crossing
where a tractor and a car wait and watch.
A bird, disturbed by the passing, squawks
and leaves the tree where it had been sleeping.
The shop stands alone on the corner
opposite the level crossing, under the tree and at the end of this cracked
pavement.
It sells bread.
It sells wine too.
Later it will sell pizza, but it is too
early now.
Two days ago at this time a man was
serving.
He didn’t know how to make the coffee and
it tasted like last nights rain scooped from the weeds on the pavement.
Today a woman is serving.
She does it right.
This is worth remembering.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment