Waiting at CIMA

Out past the big hospital,
the monolith with its reflective glass facade and gun turret windows
we waited for you in the car
until I caught a glimpse of something
Across the herringbone pavers styrofoam para llavar boxes
wedged themselves against the curb
We walked to the end of the parking lot
where empty paint buckets and plastic straws nuzzled rock gabions.
But over the edge we found wild grasses
pink and soft as thistle down 
they snickered in the wind
laughing at man’s need to fill the world with concrete
We explored this 
tiny, wild world
until you 

Published by SC Morgan

I grew up in Oregon and learned not everything is black and white. Now I live in the jungles of Costa Rica where the shades of gray cover the full spectrum. I shoot my mouth off on my blog, social media sites, and sometimes I get published. You can find my blog here: https://scmorgancom.wordpress.com/

3 thoughts on “Waiting at CIMA

  1. Many thanks, Sarah, for the reminder that if one leaves the concrete or tarmac there is that soft earth still.I was thinking: I don't remember much about roads and pavements and concrete patios from my childhood, at least not pleasantly. But the memory of lying on the grass, in the day or the night … Heaven!As you know, we do green, green grass quite well over here. Cheers!Ross


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