Driving the quiet old highway
Just after dawn
Cresting the curve
Blackbirds rise from the field
Joining others from memory
Flashes come quickly
The first flutter in the womb
The agonizing tearing away
The hollow loss
Empty hands aching
To hold the little one
Now just a figment
Try to hold onto the wheel
As the car careens toward pastures
Lush with life
The tainted joy still remains
Somewhere deep within
The hope of a future
A chance at redemption
In one little perfect smile
Now wiped away
And no one remembers anymore
Except an empty womb
That still feels the flutters
Gone too soon
On the other side of that hill
On that old highway
As the sun peeks over the hills
The Word Rummager 