Friday, August 8, 2008

Poetry Friday


The Power of Sound

In the young years of my mind,
I was sure

that the signature sound
of late summer --

the droning hum,
the long-drawn rasp --

came from the power lines:

that the noise I heard
was the strain of electricity
traversing gracelessly through the wires
in the dog-day sun.


Years passed years
and overtook
other years

before I was finally

set straight

by the cicadas.

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