Ann Foster Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

Black Crickets

Black Crickets

The sad side of the darkness, 
is the mirror in which I see, 
my reflection alone, 
this night and every night, 
you go home. 

I understand there is a reason, 
like a season, 
yet things are;
beyond change, 
when we are unable to see
past the point of the moment.

Where you are;
is not here. 
I am not able to feel the beat.
The rhythm of the air, 
in which we live our lives, 
most of the time. 
Your smell is gone. 
I am disturbed by this. 

Slowly I have walked around, 
the kitchen... the bread is cooking. 
It is nearly 2:00 am. 
Yet, I can not be taken away, 
to another place by;
the simple...
if ordinary magic,
of the oven. 

I keep watch on the time. 
Twenty minutes. 
I walk  out into the back;
the yard, 
the barn, 
the garden...
beyond. 
It is cold, 
we are old...
I hope you will,
be back.

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Lindsay Laurie December 23, 2019 at 8:59 PM Hello Ann … there is very little that can draw us away from anxiety and loneliness. I could feel a sense of sadness in your narrative - Merry Christmas Ann - Lindsay Ann Foster December 23, 2019 at 9:29 PM Ty friend. Yes... sad... Merry Christmas... God Bless your New Year... I look forward to all your new writes yet to come. Flowers and cheerful thoughts. Ann

Sandra Adams December 23, 2019 at 7:33 PM such a sad feel to this one...like a longing... Happy Holidays Sweet Ann...i wish we were close enough to break bread and chat awhile... hugs Sandra Adams December 23, 2019 at 9:13 PM i need to bake cookies...i can't really eat them and i know i will so holding off until tomorrow i suppose...feeling under the weather too and that's not helping me... hugs...sorry you are all alone! i will be back to read more tonight...trying to play catch up... Ann Foster December 23, 2019 at 8:50 PM Just a side note, this is from a book I am writing. More to follow about bugs... Ann Foster December 23, 2019 at 8:47 PM Hugs... It is cold here. (outside). Everyone is gone. I can hear the heater running, costing too much, but the choice is to sit in the cold inside. I am grateful, I am warm. It makes me want to write about toated marshemellows and making cookies. But the oven is on the other side of the house, where there is no heater. So... no cookies are going to be made tonight....just words and dreams about them I guess. hugs Ann