into the ground

candles flicker in the breeze
on the windowsill by the magazines
a bucket of flowers sits close to the door
quietly yellow white and green
quietly aging
into the ground

underneath where the dirt is cold
under the porch where the baseball rolled
the worn tight white cowhide
turned muddy brown
even the stitching
has come unwound
into the ground

the downcast gablefront
with aluminum skin
peeling paint
and the rain-leaking mezzanine
leans more than it stands
into the ground

down the street
past the patchwork church
over the meadow
the hardware store burned down
five years ago last spring
into the ground

it seems like an ice age has passed
scouring the landscape
rocks trees and grass
are dead or dying
into the ground

the passing of time
crumbles the old town down
brick by plank
nail by tack
into the ground