The sound is different depending on what species hits it The grackles are all beak and their smack is tinny The jays are more a thud But they all die the same way Fluttering on the ground We keep a shovel and a yard-waste bag handy
Hear that? It's the ice-cream truck It sounds different now The kids all run behind it Last year Caleb Turgess ran in front of it They have since changed the song I watch my sister walk to the truck from our kitchen's large, picture glass window The same one I was at on Caleb's last day He was a short, round boy made the sound of a jay
First poem I have spontaneously written in a very, very long time. I was sitting on my couch, hubskiing when I heard a thud. The bird is fine. But then I started thinking about the sound I heard and about what it would be like to live in an actual house of glass. The death that constantly occur via those thuds. Then my imagination went wild....
I like this though. I like how the last line is so dark but is the first with any rhyme.