melissaahowells - Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

melissaahowells

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the night sounds are changed

no echoing trains

no stretched traffic sounds

we are all within

the boundaries

of un-civilization

and packed in tight

smoldering

and choked in proximity

I wonder if the crickets

have all moved to the country

or a distant star

this world is not the one

I remember and grew up in

and it was noisy back then

and all I longed for was silence

and the absence of shouts

and voices in conflict and disregard

its so much harder now to listen

that I block my ears to nod out

and put on waves

or thunderstorms

that are electronic

I think its become

almost demonic

how we can not count

on rain

nor an apology

or the coolness of a breeze

that does not spread fires

and burn the trees into ghosts

rooted to the ground

we're on

shaking un-common ground

I long for the past

and the peace I thought I didn't have

to live in.

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:32PM 7/21/2021 TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHT FOR THIS REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD