Summer Wind

In the smoggy mist

neighboring villages

are drenched;

I drive the road  home

in the lighted grove.

 

On every dusty window

in the summer heat

finger prints-

the clawing of children

bored by confinement?

 

It is a thing of sorrow,

the rumble of cars

before my house, at noon

in the summer wind

 

Does the reflection

on my dust coated window

feel the same?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s