Thursday, November 24, 2016

Silently, I Sleep Not

And it seemed so different,
that night, though early,
in the morning

I'd never seen a bag,
move so swiftly,
as it did

With speed, and velocity
one sitting in the drive,
the other met up

In the street it sat,
still, as it waited, and I
looked upon them

They both sat there,
waiting, and then one
danced away, out of sight

I moved cautiously,
alone in the dark,
she had vanished

But then I caught a glimpse,
briefly, 'til I realized
I was the one, lurking

The shadows held my light,
but briefly, silently,
and I was not alone

The sound from the plastic roof,
rippled and ran, rapidly.
Never ending in this wind

And as I thought,
I wondered what their thoughts were,
of me

And I closed my eyes,
turned, and saw
more eyes, staring back at me

A light flickered,
and immersed,
and I wondered, why?

For I was not alone,
that night, with my thoughts,
the wind, some fear?

I sank back into the shadows
the bags seemingly met,
time we shall all depart

And as I extinguished
my cigarette, they moaned
and moved away

I not knowing, what they thought
gathered my own,
and moved back inside

WLM 3/30/15

To read the story behind the poem, click to read more. To delight in it, as it is, stopping reading now. :) 

The poem is about two bags blowing in the wind. One had stopped in the driveway, the other started at the top of the hill, when I first saw it, and stopped in the street, across from the driveway. It moved quickly down the hill, low to the ground.
It danced a bit in the wind, then moved to where I could not see it, beyond the house. I ventured towards the front yard, and it seemed eerily quiet. One car passed, and broke me from my slumber, a bit, but soon I was back there, when I reached the front yard and saw the bag coming back up the hill to find me.
I watched and waited, almost as if the bags were plotting against me, but they never struck. And so I wondered what their thoughts of me must be. Were they as frightened of me as I was of them?
When I turned around, I thought I saw two small, glazing eyes, low to the ground, in the woods, but I can't be certain. I keep hearing a noise come from the woods, like a door creaking, from a place where no door obviously exists. I wonder if it is an opossum. What might its thoughts be.
As I spy for the eyes I saw moments ago, a flood light on the baseball field flickers, and then comes on. Why? At 3 am in the morning, does it choose to light itself now? What is it trying to reveal?
It is so silent, I can almost hear my thoughts, and though it is not very windy, you would never know it from the relentless noise coming from the unfinished roof, on the car dealership, across the street.
I finally decide that I should go back in, lest something unpleasant befall me. I finish my cigarette and watch the glowing red head fly away into the night wind. I return inside and feel safe again, but now I am trapped here all alone with just my thoughts to keep me sane.

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