Undercurrents

It was stifling last night
walking the dog down the hill.
The cool evaporation
of the creek slid over me -
a welcome lick of winter
as I reached the trees.

The powerlines overhead buzzed,
harmonizing with cicadas and frogs.
And I thought I heard your voice
calling in the whitenoise/background,
calling from Tacoma and a lover's arms,
calling just to tell me you were okay.

I heard life is treating you well.
The end of summer and new beginnings
are just a month or so away.
That you miss me -
you just don't know how to say it
or what exactly to say.

So, in the background
under the hum of power,
the singing of twenty frogs
and the buzzy whine 
of countless cicadas,
I hear your soft, little girl voice.
The one that sounds like mine
only from your younger lips.

Kathleen Hover
07/23/02