Ears, But They Do Not Hear (You)
By Zarah Parker
All I hear are cars on pavement
a half mile away.
(Slick streets brought a touch of cold
against my cheek)
And I hear a plane cut across
clouds above my house.
At the park across the street—
laughter from a boy wrapped in a sweater
holding onto his mother as she spins him again,
again, again, again.
(But the shade of trees become shadows governed
by a streetlamp and the wind once soft, begins to bite)
You stare, tell me to listen.
All I hear are secrets told
by the wind shifting the leaves
and the lullaby of the leaves
And the dog barking at a dog barking
who is barking because they want in
from the cold.
(The dog never stops barking)
Your hand waves in front of my face.
November just kinda got away from me…
So I’m dropping by to say hello & thanks to anyone who bothers to read my posts. 🙂 It is the season to be grateful!