[untitled]

The July heat
melts my desire to grow
While stale, torrid air
mutes the breath of my voice
Water from yesterday's storm,
rushes by
Quieting birds
who are trying to tell their story
A breeze reminds me of hope
The garden gate
opens, closes

 

 

Reviews

[Michael Handel]

This is a great piece..deserving of being Untitled, truly. I look forward to you posting more stuff.
-Be well,
Mike

[Face In A Crowd]

That's good. Amazing. To me, it's one of those poems that can mean anything