futurebird's Diaryland Diary

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shot at it

When I see poetry in someone's diary I can't help but cringe a little. So much of it is the same. But I have to remember that poets (even bad ones) are trying to express something that is beyond words . . . with words. How hopeless! Poets want t let people into their eyes for a moment or two, to make the personal and nostalgic a pert on the universal. And it's so hard . . . Well here's my latest shot at it:

�

Break Begins

Our term is over.
In the lot the last car pulls off.
Wind kicks up dry snow.
The quiet settles in.

I know you are walking, somewhere,
holding your coat closed,
listening to this same silence
and the soft sound of water freezing.

When I reach the rail
up thunders the screaming freight train.
My eyes and ears are full of the sound of impetus.
I watch till the last box reveals--

--you standing with your bag in your left hand
stunned from waiting like me, poised

to cross.

18:45:56 - 2000-11-14

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