Parking Lot Meditation
PARKING LOT MEDITATION
Leaning back on my car hood
the old blue skies have my eyes
squinting ion clues of a melody
wanting to be born of scars in me
innerspheres humming to a song
an accompaniment to this show
of seagulls’ white wings soundless
in a crowded messaging sky shared
with jets of travel and wars lost in
a gleam of black crows eyeing gold
corn tasseled rows in a farmer's field
beyond this blacktop mall as tissues
catch my blow of sun sneezes in this
Wal-Mart parking lot as micro America
flows through a non-returnable Sunday
we are all too much with stuff and ink
yet I ponder to inhale what is beautiful
Charles Eastland
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