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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1653671
Sorry about the timing, it's just the way my pruning process works.
September, Indiana

This time of the year
won’t last forever!

Crickets and birds
and cicadas.

And the sounds of humanity
beginning a new day.

Is that thunder?
Or a jet . . . .

does it matter?

I can tune
into the crickets,

‘til I hear the sad sob
of a dove in the background.

Is it sad?

Seems to me
the dove just praises life itself,

and the breeze rustling
through the leaves answers--

as do the crickets.

Yes, that is thunder.
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