Season of the Dead

This is the season of the dead

where the world pulls in its breath

and waits…

The people don’t move on the streets

they are caught up in a still life, like

hawks that hang in the air, cars

with their wheels frozen in park

teenagers suspended above their

skateboards, cigarettes clenched at

an aggressive tilt between their lips

(this is the season)

the trees push

out into positive space

like alveoli in the lungs,

where breath begins

this is the season

of the dead,

everything waits while

the world draws

in its breath to either

scream in frustration,

or wail in anguish.

Reviews

[...]

That's looks like my ordinary day . I like my days lot . Good poem at least for me ha.

[JR]

My days too, lately...