on Madonna Drive

the leaves are falling

on Madonna Drive

Mission Hill’s

in mist

and I can’t see the cross

at the top



the old school house is locked

looks like it stopped teaching

long before this green was planted

long before these trees reached

forty feet

but the picture’s pretty and

I take a deep breath of it all

because the old saints in black

are calling, tapping me on the shoulder


see, boy, see?

smell, boy, smell

feel, boy, feel


crunchy orange leaves

scurry, then fly

on Madonna Drive

Mission Hill’s

been kissed

and I can see the cross


About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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