THOUGHT CHORD  


13 THOUGHT CHORD

Damp winter leaves 
stick to wet pavements,
squelching beneath my feet, 
where tree bark scatters. 
Rain drips 
from newly painted rails.
A slender cat, 
between the puddles
picks its way, 
with carefulness.

From a large white house, 
steam belches,
A flabby man, pink fleshed, 
through bathroom window
Seeing me . . . 
wraps a towel about himself.

It happens then. 
Impressions fuse!
The flabby man . . . 
slender cat, 
the puddles, 
newly painted rails, 
and wintry air, 
are one.

A single chord of thought. 
So strong the impact
that my mood is changed. 
I am quite lost 
to other things.
Why should these thoughts 
find unity in me? 

Am I the player of the chord?
Or played upon?



   




J MILTON © 2022
www PoetryNext com