In this moment,
All swamp air and sunlight spotlight,
Sat atop an old oak log,
I wonder
Who listened
To the swansong sinking melodies
caught between opulence and open water.
Who will listen
To our deep-space golden records
lost between planet and pale blue dot.
Who is listening
To my hushed hums on an old oak log
that once fell and may have made a sound.
I wonder.
And I listen.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 2:19 PM UTC
In this moment,
All swamp air and sunlight spotlight,
Sat atop an old oak log,
I wonder
Who listened
To the swansong sinking melodies
caught between opulence and open water.
Who will listen
To our deep-space golden records
lost between planet and pale blue dot.
Who is listening
To my hushed hums on an old oak log
that once fell and may have made a sound.
I wonder.
And I listen.
