What we know
Stories have no beginnings, no endings.
Towns need no introductions.
It is spring once more
in Marble Springs.
comes out, venturing into
Slowly, aspen and deer converge
on wind-empty cabins.
Now Doc Nancy's primrose
has take over the streets,
rising up through gaping boardwalks.
As in any of these empty towns, the past
lies hardly hidden
under the thin layer of dust, wrapped in
(its marble edges crumbling away
in your hands)
shelter an ancient traveller's trunk
stuffed with old journals
from the Ladies Aid.
You sort through the pages—
A map. Some tales.
An old bottle of chokecherry wine.
About the Author