A scream without an audience is no way to end this call of the wild to no end it is but fragile and in haste the wind carries it away Tall Florida Pines scrub the sky of it’s gray and the hawks glide and bob like kites caught on a line for display I figure, the time of forests lost behind the convenience store, in dreams, ended to childhood cemented in my mind the moss and deer and crick's wind through neighborhood to neighborhood connecting friendships never destined to survive Convenient thoughts of stolen pops, not the kind you score from countertops but below of pennies and mops, that only tots and moms remember most I figure you, screaming into the wind with no reception, is kinda’ like dreams without a host unseen through dust the days drifting upstream, possibility lost.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Santiago Lacarta on Unsplash

Leave a Reply