99poems/myvoice

I hear the birds
in the dry grass,
and then
they fall into
silence.
I, too, have lost
my voice,
forgotten
what I meant
to say.
The cars on the
highway
don’t seem to,
people racing along,
who remember
their intention –
or necessity.
Now and then I
lose mine,
like a grocery
list dropped
on the supermarket
aisle.
What is in
my file drawers,
the piles that have
built up on the
desk.
What accounts
for the blank
pages in
the day book,
the empty feeling
in my heart.

7/19/99