What She Heard

 

What She Heard                           for Jack

 

Is that the chimes

outside my window,

singing in the wind

or

 

is it a squirrel chatting

on a fence post, his

orange-brown fur so

soft

 

or

 

is it a raven on the

high wires, his

caw-caw heard

loud and lonely

 

or

 

is it the garbage truck

trawling the alley

looking for whom

it may devour, its

mechanical arms

reaching and shaking

heavy barrels into

hungry jaws

 

or

 

is it the wind in the

tall-tall fir trees

whooshing and swaying

the boughs—

            sounds I hear

every morning

                        before moving on

just like the

 

chimes

squirrel

raven

garbage truck

                                    and the wind