Early like the morning

The dial tone blares overhead,

Are you there?


Burnt sienna trees whispering to me,

What are they saying?

As I walk the leaves crumble, the people murmur.

Do they know I’m here?

Sitting in solitude, staring with somber,

They can’t hear me.


It’s raining orange and red,

Is it time to go home?

The trees breathe and they’re alive,

They’re changing, always changing.

The ringing has stopped and I’m alone,

Solitude, somber, serenity.

Can you hear me?

I’m here.

The birds sit and I watch,

The man on the concrete tells her to repent.

It’s a cycle,

The yelling, the yawning, the yearning.

Interrupted by the bells she stands,

They’re early.


Early like the morning,

The dew and the sun.

Shining light and it’s no longer quiet.

The day has come and I’m running,

Running but silent.

What about now?


It’s dark and the car lights graze the wall.

I sit alone, though I am not,

For the walls have secrets –– They’re watching.

Observing the silence not as ignorance but company.

The man is asleep in his bed,

The air sits as if frozen,

Shocked by a moment –– Silent, somber, serene.

Can you hear me now?


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