A Long Walk in Autumn

I walked my dog one day about a month ago, and these are my passing thoughts as I looked up at the sky.

I look up at the white, Autumn sky

and see the birds and trees,

tall and wooden like Greek Gods.

And I know I should feel something.

Some kind of energy, or fascination.

 

But I don’t. I can’t.

I feel nothing. I want to feel.

And I hate that I cannot feel.

Tell me, what is that feeling?

Author's Note

This is a stream of consciousness writing. No editing has been done. It's also more of a monologue than a poem, most likely I'll put it in a script or some prose.