death in the lane

 the soil was freshly turned

the seedlings ready for planting

she glances up from her digging

and sees the blue car in the lane

oddly parked against the brambles

no one is in the driver's seat

but a dog pops up from behind

waiting for its owner

she bends to spot her tomatoes in 

one long calibrated row

at noon, she goes into the house

but loud sirens lure her back out

firemen run by carrying wood blocks

while paramedics stand helplessly 

around the blue car

she sees the dog is still in the car

barking behind the closed windows

the body lying on the ground

under a white blanket

in the dusty lane behind her house

on a most unwary summer's day

before the long weekend

"The adult consciousness of the ego,

of our present identity,

of our feelings of joy and solitude,

of what can be done and what we'll finally do

or of the world situation

is like the sudden fright that cars

produce when they plough through a field,

like the dirty deed of taking advantage

of people who show signs of weakness,

like when we feel naked, lacking in faith,

and out of contact with others..."*

[* excerpt from "Four Lane Road, 1956" by Ernest FARRE in Edward Hopper: Poems, 2006 -  translated from the Catalan by Lawrence Venuti]

For the late A.C. - a neighbour whom I have only seen walking her dogs.