Two Middling Poems: September Grass & The Stage
Wednesday, April 9th, 2008Two Middling Poems:
September Grass
September Grass, always
Seems to have crickets
Ticking like clocks
(around their core)
And I can hear them
As I walk at twilight
Blurred, running through
The September Grass
I must have stepped
On a few in the dark
But they never stopped:
Ticking, ticking, counting
Time, time, time…
“What’re you dong?”
I asked the crickets…
They whispered
I heard them:
“A private celebration”
They were watching me!
Sight unseen, […]