........................Masked
........................Just briefly winter is here
........................and thick fogs
........................mask the valley view
........................mask the call of the hawk
........................the departing crow's
........................voices stilled with the damp
........................Cars and trucks
........................are but a shadow against
........................the foghorn’s deep call
........................By Saturday
........................the heat’s return
........................will stop us all
........................turn us all into unmoving
........................unthinking dried shreds
........................masked against ourselves.
Herself: Having a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings….Did you know it’s cold out there in the big world. Still don’t know where the class is going to meet next week. The instructor has our email addresses and will let us know. The new semester starts next week. Couldn’t use G’s newer programs and finally figured out my Word 2003 enough to make a address list. Reading Victorian mystery. Balance: The beauty of the writing in my writing class. Such magic these folks offer the world. I miss voices that are no longer with us. I cherish those that are. |
Love the part,
ReplyDeleteCars and trucks
are but a shadow against
the foghorn’s deep call
I so enjoyed your poem.