Wayside Elegy

by

Mike Bayles

                             A handful of dirt contains

                             all elements of life-

                             the seed taking from a crumbled past,

                             and I mourn the season lost,

                             my cupped hands full of death and life

                             returning to its source,

                             and I sing of life at my feet,

                             Walt Wittman's song

                             and William Blake's elgy of passage.

                             The ground at my feet bears the death

                             and stirs after the torrent of rain falls

                             and brings forth life from the seed-

                             fall's descent onto the lanscape forgotten

                             as my world renews itself.