November 12, 2015 at 01:41 pm
Poem, G (All)
Free Verse | Writing | General/Other
Upload Stats: 176
Chipmunks, squirrels collecting
bitternut hickory, chirping
against a small owl cruising
low beneath the trees.
Everyone has gone this morning
to school or work. Laundry rolling,
carpets vacuumed, cleaning
in the bathroom on my knees.
I'd like to be Whitman, praising
the pure contralto, Wynton practicing
all day. But like my father dying
I cannot hear what I cannot see.
Locally there's politics, processing
points of view. Eventually coming
to a decision, building or not building
windmills on the sky, bridges in the sea.
Insignificant and mighty happenings
seem the same from my vantage ageing
gratefully, inexorably, planning
how to die in my own damn way.
© RobertRonnow - all rights reserved
The author would love to hear your feedback but you must be logged in to do that. If you are a member of Writers-Network click here to login and review this writing entry.
Not a member? Not a problem! You can register here, it's free for everyone