Sunday, May 16, 2021

Evening, pre-poem

 


I sit quiet, waiting

for something to say -
all I hear are the now-subdued sounds
that continue into evening  -
the high bleat of the towhees,
blackbirds with their jewel-toned songs

A while ago, I saw a turkey hen
walking home, sampling evening bugs
among the ferns. Now I hear one fly
from tree to tree

The wind has quieted, the sun has gone,
coolness starts to reassert itself.
Some cars, or maybe motorcycles,
are rumbling up a distant street,
but that's part of another world.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 16, 2021

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