Prickmedainty Poetry

Aria

I went whisper-gathering today:

I sieved the sounds of a thousand things,

My ears caught echoes like shells,

And I placed a bird's chirrup in my heart—

locketing the happy notes

for future glad thoughts.

The creaking squeaking of backpack wheels,

the whoosh of tire and the thunder-tear

of a plane crossing sky

filled me with reverberations.

Like a finger tracing

the edge of a crystal cup,

Sound shapes me—

I thrum my own harmonics.