Wednesday, August 04, 2010
THE CRUX OF SUMMER
rattling, clicking, chirping,
my tumultuous backyard -
out there are basic songs
In here behind this screen
is a quiet life
with a stray mosquito,
a small spider meaning me no harm,
I insulate myself against a noisy dark
I must learn to express love boldly,
it is a promise I have made myself
opposing all the silences
that have overtaken my life
Like an insect in the grass
driven by wordless desires -
I too have no protection
Like that insect I call out
because it is my true song,
my rattle, my click, my chirp
© Bob Rixon
Labels: poem
