everything

everything is dirt, dust, and water.
everything-
from it,
of it,
to it.
everything.

it turns to grass, and roads, and people-
and people, and people.
it turns to trees, and rocks, and ocean
and sky and on and on.

it turns to flowers that follow the sun
and stretch to touch it.
it turns to children who watch their mother
and cry to leave her
it turns to a house with flower beds
that grows smaller in rear view mirrors.

it hardens
it breaks
it softens
it reforms
and reforms
and repeats its cycle.

and on and on.

dirt, dust, and water.

it turns to flowers that wither with frost
and lie down in the shadows of the trees
it turns to children who see their mother
and cry when she leaves them
it turns to a house full of people, bearing flowers and sobriety
dressed in their very best blacks, and blank-faced expressions.

and goes to dirt, and dust, and water.