Tuesday, October 7, 2014

POEM: "Listening To Birds At Dawn"

Listening To Birds At Dawn

And the machinery we depend on
Lasts till we get where we’re going
Five minutes or five inches in reserve
Our heart pounds guessing we made it
(Five pounds more and we wouldn't have)
Hardly feeling five of the something less
Could crash this plane, could send us
Out of control, desperate, terrified;
Strange craft, the inefficiency by
Which the world runs fractured
As if the doors that barely close
Contained enough for long enough

That it all worked fine before the system
We almost had worked out, gave up.

© 2014 Rob Schackne

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