A Poem A Week #25

Sometimes I Hear

Sometimes I hear
A bird chirping endless
In the trees, and sometimes
I hear the breeze,
Flitting away the leaves
Of the mighty grand oak
Out front in the yard.
Sometimes I hear the stomping
Of feet, pattering sweet
On the pavement outside
The door. Sometime I hear
The door, one solid knock
Or two, or the ringing of a bell
Or the scrape of a shoe.
Sometimes I hear
My own breath as I sprint,
The tumble of steps and
Sometimes I hear,
I can hear, the glint
Of sunlight through the window.
Yes, it makes sound, too.
If you listened,
You could hear it
Too.

Catherine Joy

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