Friday, June 23, 2017


                    The “VIDEO” bird is chirping lustily,
                    While up above a Cessna’s drone drifts off,
                    And now a 707 descends toward me
                    With others soon to follow, still aloft,
                    And all this morning ruckus keeps me from
                     Discovering a poem of any worth,
                     Leaving my stifled Muse abused and dumb,
                     Once copious but now, alas, in dearth.
                     But hark!  A sudden stillness has descended,
                    And maybe now my Muse may reappear—
                    Perhaps this vast cacophony has ended
                    And now a channel to the Source is clear.
                       A single warbler tweets, as if to say,
                       “The stage is yours: you may begin your play.”