Bright yellow morning;
Puff clouds float under plane sound.
Small flies are buzzing.
Two bikes take a rest
Leaning on a compost pile;
A cow moos softly.
Chattering voices--
Two kids biking with their mom.
Road is vibrating.
Insects are singing--
Voices on the edge of mind.
Road is deserted.
Woodpecker rattles;
Soft breeze comes, goes, comes again.
I walk in a dream.
With blooms, insects come,
Buzzing, getting in my eyes.
Why don't they drop dead?
Old, gray already,
Dandelion puff launches;
Ready for take off.
Rotting tree trunk stands
Next to its Siamese twin--
One dead, one alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment