I didn’t hear you
and you slipped past
your whispers only faint murmurs on the wind
less than the burbling susurrus of the river.
I heard shrieks and giggles,
running feet and splashing laughter;
I didn’t hear you.
poem- quiet June 8, 2014
The house rests.
Five bodies drift on dreams.
One sits, enshrined in song,
strums softly
on strings:
a living lullaby.
poem- quiet on the internet November 28, 2013
The Americans
are gone.
The internet
is quiet.
Apparently,
Thanksgiving
really is about
face time.
How wonderful
to be thankful.
Shawn L. Bird 