The Cleaning Lady At The Budget Inn

There is something mysterious
about the cleaning lady
here at the Budget Inn in Statesboro.
I have watched her all week
as I sip my coffee beside the small pool
while my wife attends classes.
She flits all morning from door to door
speaking to everyone she meets.
Without fail she stops to speak
to the pigeons that line the low motel roof.
Tilting forward they listen intently,
then fly round the flag at the post office
sending away her message with feathered stamps.
They circle the radio and TV antennas
attaching her words to the speaking air
that passes them from cloud to cloud
till even the sun shines down his reception.
They disappear into the trees
passing her message from branch to branch.
It must be profound;
I sense her syllables seeping down
through roots to saturate the earth.
Today she detours toward me
as if she has recognized my curiosity.
As she passes she reveals the words
she proclaims every day for the whole world to hear.
“ Good morning,” she smiles,
and carries clean towels into the next room.