"Listening"

Listening

 

Before the end, bees disappear

and mosquitoes and love bugs

but gray-haired couples push

babies in three-wheeled strollers

with room to jog behind.

 

There are many sunny days

but no rain, except when thunderless

storms travel behind graceless winds.

Then towns disappear and cows

lodge in trees stripped of leaves.

Small children dance nightly

in circles, palms locked on

naked thighs, mouse ears

pressed to sky. Birds sing all night.

 

At one a.m. meadowlarks, at three

anemic crows, by five sparrows.

Across the sea, a soldier fires his last bullet

into a bleached skull too large

to be human. The sound is immense,

greater than stars or sea waves.

Copyright 2009

 

I was fortunate to meet Tia Ballantine at a recent poetry reading. Tia was one of the readers and I was introduced to her poetry. Tia has been around the block writing poetry, with many years behind her polished words and clean lines of open verse.

 

Tia has been writing poetry for close to forty years, with four collections in hand and a possibility of another to follow, with sufficient impetus. She has had four chapbooks printed, before the advent of digital printing, and on that ground I am encouraging her to think of following that path to publishing. This poem begins further posting of her work to come. Stay tuned.

 

 

 

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