Frozen In Time
A day in September
Not like the others
The world, frozen
Or stuck like a broken record.
It was cloudy and sunny
Dry and yet wet.
The insects in hiding
From each direction
Were humming yet screaming,
Repeating, repeating,
A lullaby of insanity.
The earth, emerald green,
From the rain of last night,
Warm, damp,
And soft to the feet,
Was silent and beautiful
Tempting a person
Out of reality.
The air was stale
And quite hot indeed.
Especially when the sun
Peeked through the bleak greyness
Of the sky up above.
Unless the wind rare,
From the east would blow,
Lightly, bringing coolness.
The mushrooms and moss
Thrived on the earth.
Under the spruce tree,
Though late afternoon,
The webs from many spiders
Lay stretched in the grass,
Laden with dewdrops
That should have been gone
Gone with the morning.
Like that feeling should be,
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Tara Egan - September 6, 1993