Sounds of the Seasons

third year caela gray

photo by avni ahuja

I hear your sounds in muted funeral tones

Melodies played over piano keys. 

In a sunken desert of organic peace

--Suspended chorus in waiting. 

I hear your sounds in dripping popsicle sticks

Staining the fingers of giggling girls and boys.

In rain-rusted windchimes on porches and

Sizzling pavements.

I hear your sounds in a jar of rattling buttons

Nudged while putting away heavy, wool coats. 

In a harmonic dissonance tender with 

Hope and industriousness.

I hear your sounds speak like guitar strings

A rhythm of disintegration, lovely and scratchy.

In a sorrowful, deep sigh 

Bronzed before a glorious final battle.

These precious rhapsodies

Replay for a reason.

Linger in their notes,

Softly hum to each song.