The presence of insects is
faint as hearing through many machines
rhythm as ring town
restarting the closed compact, wired
through years of study resets, twice, as a beetle adjusting
its balance may sound like nothing I've ever
heart, Darling; when you were near, was that your computer I heard
or an insect present, twice, then once in our kitchen,
where I set a timer an hour and a half ago: a beep, unlike insects
reminds me there is not a song or presence
in nature here; only set ways resume
day, light night,
time.
(A minor "light" poem, the first attempt at writing three different "light" poems with my daughter, Chelsea. Her three poems are complete, last month, consecutive days, gorgeous thoughts in poetry. Mine minor, yet begun, and two more to raise brighter, higher in purpose, not merely reactive, interpretive of sound around me. Light is larger than this.)