Evening Spells

Sitting alone outside on my porch. Dusk has swept the over the ground, as I reflect in my grandmother's wicker rocker. With my eyelids closed and my eyes anxiously awaiting the sounds of vibrant life around me, I have learned to listen to the night creatures as they speak to me in song. I have much to learn from them. I ask myself, where do their secrets go? Will I ever know? Do their sounds amplify up and out into the universe and become tiny stars? As I sat listening that night I recorded this beautiful ambiance in to my brain. I could hear the echoes of my childhood reminding me to laugh at time games and to never feel old. With all the global warming, the cicadas still buzz, the crickets out-cry the drone of the city. And I wait for something, maybe a mosquito that will chat quietly without razorblades in its mouth. I sleep. A poem for you:

An Ode.....

To the music that I hear
Between the spaces in my head.
I have heard it.
Come and go.
Although it stays awhile
To let me know
It still haunts me.
Rhythm
``````Beats
Against
my
Brain.
An Ode
to the
Music
that makes me
SANE!