By Debra Louise Scott
Solitude
Quiet circle cut off from the world
World between the worlds guardian freeway isolating with roaring diesel smoke
Trampled down by who knows who with whiskey poured on my sarsen stones
I watch the parade of people circle circle circle until the sun goes down
No longer coming to worship to be closer to the world that is no longer
Coming to worship a different god, a god of gawk
I don’t know this god of gawk
I watch over dusted remains that no longer remain underneath me
Once in a while, comes a lover….
And leaves again
Leaving Solitude.
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