A Poem

 

After the Super Moon


We are having monsoon
weather, air heavy and moist,
predicting possible July
thunderstorms and flash floods
to assault our two year drought.

I have taken walks,
protein powder,
and stocked up on vitamins
not knowing, what am I
preparing for?

Watching the bleached-blond hillside,
a mother and fawn
marauding what’s left
of our garden, I sit
suspended.

Do I spread my arms,
yell, or hide?
None of the above.
My silence is not my silence.
This silence moves everything.


(c) Gudrun Mouw, July 14, 2014



 

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