The Place I Live
I have been chanting five minutes when soft whispers of the forest surround my soul;
A tiny white fluff of a feather floats past my face, bringing me enormous peace.
I sit down on a waiting chair, listening to the birds, singing their helplessness.
Twilight happens as I sit, waiting, watching, pondering what used to be.
Rustling leaves bring my attention to the dog and cat, who have sneaked up to join in the quiet.
We three sit in soft anticipation for a few minutes until an airplane trills past, breaking the silence.
In the distance I hear my neighbor yell at her daughter.
Her voice is quite shrill, but her personality is kind.
Vi is in the beginning stages of dementia,
A travesty to a life well-lived,
A heartache for her seven children.
A truck thunders down the road.
The dog barks angrily.
This is the kind of
Place we live in.
A place where
Trucks breaking
The peace
Makes us bark.
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