Buried With Him Poem by Frank Avon

Buried With Him



In mid-September
I sit on my deck
warmed by the sun,
immersed in sounds:

the clicks of katydids, in waves
a chipper songbird to my left
the bass of a lawnmower in the distance
a breeze among the leaves, whispering

I am reading
about the American theocracy
but the voices that surround me
baptize me in sounds.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nature,sound
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Melvina Germain 17 October 2015

So tender and beautiful, soothing to the soul...I love it.....

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Kelly Kurt 15 September 2015

As always, a lovely, sensory poem. Thanks, Frank

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