Legacy

By Susan Carman

I rub clean the chiseled letters

on Grandpa’s gravestone, kneel

near wagon wheel ruts worn deep

in the earth. Overhead, a chicken hawk glides

on a downward draft, banks over concrete condos

rising from the horse barn’s remains.

Bulldozers rumble, backhoes with jagged teeth

devour tall grass prairie, family roots. Last week,

they drained the old pond, now dust

blowing against darkened windows

of my childhood home.