Rust-colored turf

It was on a hot windy day 

that I watched a child

stop off his bike

and turn an ear to the earth

listening to ripples 

in the rust-colored turf.

 

A sincere puzzled frown 

slid from his ear to his chin

and skewed his dirty

yet delicate face. 

His eyes widened and

looked out of place. 

 

“What do you hear”

I asked the small boy.

He turned to my eyes,

“Is it the beat of the earth?”

He opened his mouth,

but all that poured out

were small kites and

bubbles of mirth. 

Michael Overstreet is a translator, poet, and student from Chadron, Nebraska. He is currently enrolled in the Translation Workshop at University of Iowa. The musical, ingenuous genius of Shel Silverstein remains infused in Michael's core; even when writing prose, rhyme seems to manifest on its own in his work. He enjoys writing poetry that attempts to evoke the mystical jubilation of childhood in the face of impoverished surroundings.

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