The Retaining Wall

The dust racing like horses in the tall grass.
Winter breathing slowly its death pains
as spring pushes the knife in deeper.
Planes scratching the hazy azure,
people scratching themselves
wondering their place in this world,
this beginning of April,
in the Midwest.
This retaining wall being built by us
to someday be left by us.
And this days, like so many other days
simultaneously bringing itself in
and taking itself out of the glory we call God.