when the moon is high on the fringe of town,
just beyond city lights and street signs,
the empty glow of neon blinks against a backdrop
of deep blue, (almost black but not quite),
freckled with luminous stars.
it’s the echo of a shepherd barking
in the mountains, chained outside
to a white picket fence, waiting
for an answer that will never come.
it’s the trickle of water in the koi pond
next door, recycled in an artificial route,
spewing bubbles and waiting for evaporation.
it’s the creak of my rocking chair as I fold
my knees to my chest and hug them,
the way I did when I was five, sitting in darkness
because the porch light burned out
and I’m too tired to replace it.
now the dog has stopped barking
and a mosquito buzzes close to my ear,
and in the distance, the absence of crickets
makes silence the loudest sound I've ever heard.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
when the moon is high on the fringe of town,
just beyond city lights and street signs,
the empty glow of neon blinks against a backdrop
of deep blue, (almost black but not quite),
freckled with luminous stars.
it’s the echo of a shepherd barking
in the mountains, chained outside
to a white picket fence, waiting
for an answer that will never come.
it’s the trickle of water in the koi pond
next door, recycled in an artificial route,
spewing bubbles and waiting for evaporation.
it’s the creak of my rocking chair as I fold
my knees to my chest and hug them,
the way I did when I was five, sitting in darkness
because the porch light burned out
and I’m too tired to replace it.
now the dog has stopped barking
and a mosquito buzzes close to my ear,
and in the distance, the absence of crickets
makes silence the loudest sound I've ever heard.
