Below The Hemlocks (Roadside Crosses) Poem by Randal Johnson

Raindrops splash on a dashboard Jesus.
A coroner's van sits black as a crow.
Streetlight halos hang empty of angels.
Only hemlocks watch over the scene below.

O'er the water and blood and gas and oil,
O'er the hush of death, and hand of fate,
O'er the waning cries, and tears and toil,
As they flow as one through a culvert grate.

Into the blackness, and toward the ocean,
Back to the place where life began,
And what remains shall be towed away,
Or placed inside the waiting van.

And the hemlocks stand in reverent witness,
As the flashing lights all drive away
And as paint on roadside crosses fade,
As memories fade, the hemlocks stay.