Suburban Back Road

As I drive up the hill
on a local back road,
Dwight Road to be exact,
Monmouth County Number
12 West to be precise.
As I attempt to avoid
displaced traffic on Highway 35,

she’s caught my eye.
In the midst of modern
hurried Saturday stress,
I wonder if the proud homeowners,
or anyone else for that matter

notice her,

the lifeless doe
lying upon her leaf-lined coffin
with black, saucer eyes

still wide open.
Either way, there she lay.
Her firm, youthful body
upon dead leaves;
her long, ivory neck
stretches out

contrasting dark green ChemLawn.

Driving blindly upon the peak,
here, on this suburban back road,
on this old time country horse farm;
Explorers whiz by on already explored,
tamed territory; white Civics,
zip along publicly corrupt asphalt.

Despite the surrounds of death,
she radiates,
divinely dressed in her
tan-camouflage fatigues

Peering through the rearview mirror,

I watch her image ascend.

Published by Atlantic Highlands Herald, 2002

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