The Longest Month

Thirty days later,
steam still billows
from the rubble,
vanishes on the cool, clear
Autumn breeze

blowing across an army
of hydraulic shovels
of every size and color.
The whining machines
dig, swivel, dump,

operators in hard hats
and white breathing masks
turned gray
by smashed concrete
and ashes.

Scott Speck
10/11/2001