After three cups of coffee I’m fully anxious.
The wind thrashes the limbs of the trees,
chases leaves down the wet street.
The cats go in and out, and in again.
I force a smile.
The silver lining and all that.
Outside it’s so gray it hurts the eyes.
For dVerse. Bjorn has us visiting the idea of silence in poetry. I tend to use sparse, trimmed-down lines–this (I think) naturally lends itself to silent space. My first draft of this poem was a 6-line lyric, but to heighten the feel of unsettled quiet that I was striving for, I broke each short sentence into its own line.