In our meetup writing groups we mostly deal with prose - fiction, non-fiction - stories ranging from memoir to fantasy or sci-fi. But every so often a member is inspired to set down a poem, and when these ethereal thoughts float into our consciousness they're literally breaths of fresh air. Meg Mooney gave us another such gift this week:
I thought I heard the distant sound of songbirds on the evening wind
just as dusk threw down
her velvet gown
over the tired nervous city
where heaviness gathered
sucking the lifeforce out of some,
turning hearts to stone
as well as kindling gentle
now grew profusely.
The earth looked too alone,
a lost soul floating in space,
an insignificant glob
except for the calling of the birds.
You’d think the earth, forlorn, was sleeping
but the birds didn’t care.
They sang and sang
And the small lonely planet sighed.
The birds told the people not to fear –
have courage, hope, calm, renewal
and all would be well – again.
Copyright Meg Mooney
Photos cvwilliams & Wix