Today’s poem came from the prompt at Not Without Poetry. Strangely, NaPoWriMo asks us to write Spam Poetry based on all those spam emails. Regular readers will remember that I riffed a bit on a bit of blog comment spam so I hope that will count a bit in that department.
I started this at lunch and worked on it a bit more when I finally got home from work.
I Sit Up In Bed At The Open Window
The slightest breeze sounds
yet where moves the air and trees?
But for the whisper, the birch is still.Down the road, the peepers
calling calling calling
filling their pool with life.In the birch a bird stirs
just a ruffle of feathers
the foot shuffle, blinking, then sleep again.That curious sound: pad pad pad
A cat comes up the steps;
determined, stealthy. Silence. Up on bed.The stars shine behind
the birch’s smallest branches
the dark Way making the leaves gleamThe rumble of a car
pulling in late, down the road.
Then just my breath.The workroom clock ticks.
The late night train calls out.
a dog barks twice and once.This perfect late Spring night
balanced relaxed waiting
The night dissolves into the night.Mary Beth Frezon 26 April 2011
