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

by the CLANK, CLANK

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 - 

Polite

"Yes, maam?"

Shoulders sag

looks of defeat

in their eyes

"Maam, 

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

protected

regulated

Blame our builders

for not knowing when

constructing our 

neighborhood

But three sink holes

in the past eight years?

Meanwhile, I walk

by a stagnant pond

fish less 

mosquito-ridden

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?