While watching the light fabric move,
in rhythm with the breeze,

carries the voices of a neighborhood,
children laughing, fireworks cracking,
grown-voiced discussion over wine,
the song of cicadas, crickets, fireflies,
even the lonely frogs rejoice the summer evening,
of which I listen to, not partake in,
through the veil of open windows.


4 thoughts on “veil.

  1. Too bad the poet Cheri and the listener never met in real life or over the phone. He told me over tea he would get along fine with her. —

say something to me.

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