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Hospital Trip
Watching the trees fly past.
Riding in the car at last,
going to the hospital.
Long and winding.
Driving slow on roads
narrow and wide.
Skies and signs go by.
A balloon about to loosen and fly.
Sun's rays pull the wheels ahead,
making the path look red.
A train is crossing, like a saw.
A crack in the ride;
the day and the night.
Soft clouds atop cast white.
A child and a mother, a daughter,
look on from the side of our track.
Lights flash, a two-tone bell rings.
A train is crossing,
a crack in the ground.
Like string or wool,
the path pulls us forward, on to the bed.
Stiff legs.
Filaments,
like long grasses wave and grasp.
Blind snail's horns reaching to recall an old task.
Fingers bend slow,
made from forgotten clay.
Shoots emerge through snow,
to a new day.
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