Friday, May 5, 2017

The rain is back ....

...and the muse returns.

Listen Again


You speak and you expect me
to listen. But your words, fall like hailstones,
stinging, hurting my pride. Continuing
on and on, for what seems like days, you
enunciate every damn syllable, until my ears bleed.

You stop, if only to breathe, and I try to speak,
but you do not hear my whispers, and return to
your diatribe on this, that, or the other.
My eyes and ears closed, I search the peace of
a female Chickadee’s song and I listen.


© Catherine Woods 2017

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