Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Construction Zone

a poem

I gleefully breathe
gaze upon jet streams
like silly string in the sky

Herds of clouds
migrating south

My reverie is jarred
of heavy machinery

I'm walking towards
the Construction Zone.

Last time, son in hand,
"Mommy, mommy, Bob the Builder!"

We wave at the men in waders...
In Waders?!

I'm determined to ask
them today - 

Wind is whipping
sand stings my face
leaf plummets my shoulder

This is (was) the busiest street
in our neighborhood,
Garrison Drive

The construction zone
has blocked all passage
for weeks now

Three men in hard hats
huddle together
it's my chance - 

"Yes, maam?"

Shoulders sag
looks of defeat
in their eyes

to replace a manhole
takes 4 days. 
This has taken us
5 weeks."

"That's astonishing!"
I say

"It's all downhill
from here,"
they say

"What is the delay?"

"Maam, there's a natural
spring under this road.
That's the reason 
for the sinkholes."

So now, truck load after
truck load of sand and
dirt coming to stop up
this spring?

In ancient times
springs near cities
were stopped up
before laying siege

But this one is
a matter of convenience

The earth pregnant
with new life

Pushed down
pushed back
for convenience

Nearby St. Augustine
Ponce de Leon
is said to have discovered
the Fountain of Youth

They've built a shrine
around it 
and charge admission

Springs are not
uncommon in Florida

But they're practically
endangered now

Blame our builders
for not knowing when
constructing our 

But three sink holes
in the past eight years?

Meanwhile, I walk
by a stagnant pond
fish less 

Why not build a bridge
over it (for cars)
bring empty zephyrhills bottles
let kids play & splash?

Or shall we stroll together
laughing as community
in our newly refurbished
amenities center

Southampton Springs
bottles in hand? 

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