LOCK-DOWN

  “Escape did not promise anything worthwhile.”

                                                    - Chekhov

The rickety door opens out

from a dark room

onto a screened porch,

as far as one can go

(without violence)

in the faltering make-up 

of sense. 

Past low sweeping pine boughs,

a view of the uncut meadow -

birds prepare

in faded light

for lock-down.

The bent figure of an aged woman

he had once seen buried

continues her ceaseless rooting.