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       Where dust devils 
     walk  between 
   the tree stumps 

As I pass this century 
  once again  I smell 
    Dinner  beside my 
 Great-grandchild's
Children.

      Far beside
   the roadways
between us & them
Dust devils walk
    beside
       petrified
           stumps.

Was my lunch finished
     over pure cold
       Sips of
         liquid
           Joy?

"Lovely Sky, isn't it!"

A disturbed
     thought passes
        brushing the
          grain of
            Rock
from an old
          tree.

Just like you and me,
   An old habit of
        Life.

"Did you finish 
                your lunch
                 , Dear?"

                                                   ............


by  John Edward Culp 
     Saturday morning
     January 20, 2024
      ♡