Musings on Eastern Conneticut

There is a certain wiry. beauty
In the crumbling infrastructure of the great state of Connecticut
The land between the rivers  that flow towards a brackish sea
And the way that even the clams seem to be reaching, striving
Towards the rising sun
In billboards and train stations,
Neighborhoods and those leaning steeples
The concrete smokestacks of industrial churches
Facades and fronts, bricks and backs
New developments, cookie cutter condos
And always, the blue-green sky.