I rebuilt houses in the Garden State after 9/11.
A kitchen wall fell by sledgehammer and trees were revealed
beyond the backyard.
House became stage with the invisible fourth wall gone.
The woods are lovely but I have miles to go before I sleep,
I whispered as if in a dream the words of Robert Frost. Will anyone hear the
sound of his poetry in the forest of words? Are We, The People all on the same
page?
I left the sledgehammer behind on a break and went deep into
the mystery of the woods. I climbed up the side of a steep hill to a rock
plateau. I stood up in the heights and saw an army of tall trees as the sun
fell to Earth in shades of autumn gold.
There was no sense of year, month and date of day. It was
any moment in any century. I traveled without movement as the boy I was had
done before by words in books.
Wish you were here.
Welcome to the stories of our lives.
Welcome The Public Library.
Copyrighted 2015 By Daniel Angel Aponte
