by Michael Shoemaker
wind whines through the treetops
thump goes the woodpecker
croak goes the bullfrog
thud goes the hail
on the boat dock
click goes
the bluebird’s beak
ping goes the melting,
pelting rain
squeak, like many gates,
goes the call
of the covey of partridges
whoosh goes the tree swing
plunk goes the fishing
bobber and tackle
and beat goes my young heart
why then
do all my tears
fall silent
among the cones
and dust?
Pegasus 