Safe at HomeAmongst the traffic, an angry voice. Muted by the window up.I crack the window, a louder "HEY!"On my way back from the bank branch off the tree trunk of Garey Avenue.My head turns toward the drama. Strike one, against the sidewalk the familiar ping of aluminum. Then, crack~pop~shatter at once: strike two against the car window over there.That's a home run for me where I dial Nine one one! "What's your name, mam?"H a c k m a n, like the actor, but he's not my uncle.
You have great endings!
Movement in a treeI thought to trim the treeNot even knowing what kind of tree it wasNot noticing red buds dangledAmong the green leavesLike trumpets or earringsAnd when the wind blewIn late afternoonNot hearing a small symphonyAccompanied by whirring wingsOf a ruby-throated hummingbirdPlaying among the orchestra’s brass.Rick Stepp-Bolling
I love the musical aspect. I can relate. Great, Esteppbo.
These are wonderful poem!
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The ornamental plum died last year.No purple leaves pulled by spring breezesNo white blossom snow to fall.What remained was too brittleToo ready for antsSo I laid it down gentlyIt moved like a manStiff and slowlyTo pieces.
leaves swayforetelling of comingallergy eyes