One Minute

So often when I feel a poem trying to be written, I get very quiet and observe my surroundings. Then I begin writing what’s around me and see what emerges. I recommend it as a simple yet powerful writing practice. Here is what came through earlier this evening.

Downtown tower bells ring a five o’clock
going-home song of varied tones,
not just a mere five gongs, for all
the wearers of neckties and dress shirts,
black flats and sensible skirts.

The office workers are finally free.

A dog reaches his high-pitched bark
all the way to my café table
on the next block.
His call for attention is underlined
by the grey tones of rolling tires
moving past on all sides.

Everyone has a destination.

Three feet away a gathering of small talk
lifts and fades, rises again then ends
with a few chimes of laughter
a smiling silence
a ripple of half waves.

I write their story in the late afternoon.


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