Ruin

On my way to work this morning I saw the ground along the highway torn up at the turn where I stop every day before approaching work. Yesterday I'd seen the construction crew beginning their digging and I smelled the raw earth and dirt and thought that this kind of work was not so bad for the earth as I usually think -- isn't the earth made for changing and growth?

Today, the stretch of ground was longer and now devoid of grass. I remembered, suddenly, the stretch of flowers that until yesterday occupied that space every spring. Instead of fresh and new, the earth looked tired and worn.

I reflected on my own inner world -- also tired and worn from continuous pressures of work. I remember now how it feels to have the flowers gone.

Too tired to move or protest.