The Bus Stop - Post 9/11/2001 -- A Poem (from "Four Folded Corners")

Downtown, NYC 

It was like any other day 

the sun, bright,

hanging like an apple

in an orchard of brilliant clouds

You ran to get your bus,

when you could have walked,

waited for another

How could those left behind have foreseen it --

a shower of jet fuel
from such a wondrous sky.

By Mary E. Lohan

* Dedicated to Jeanieann Maffeo who died from burns suffered at a nearby bus stop after the planes struck the WTC.

** I remember so clearly that day as I drove to work and the way the sky appeared. A coworker had told me how he had managed to catch a bus that spared his life that day.