Stela I and Stela II

Planted in your courtyard
Under the oaks
Bound by the backs of buildings
pedestrian paths
falling into disuse.

For now,
no longer a convenient route

The rain falls and the sun sets
Shadows of bare winter branches.
In your crowded courtyard
perhaps you see a glimpse
of pink and red sunsets
reflected from clouds overhead.
How do you and your sister pass the time?
Growing old with the oaks
Are you lonely without people to gaze upon you?
As a monument,
I assume you were created to be viewed
Your purpose to be seen.

Perhaps that is not your purpose at all.
Are you guardians?
confessors,
markers of the dead?
Are you
repository of thoughts,
feelings,
secrets,
fears
and joys
of those who
stop and share something of themselves with you?

Next time I pass
I will stop to whisper a secret
to
Stella I and Stella II?