Trees sway to and fro,
A slight bristle is heard.
The bristling of leaves on grass.
Off in the distance, a roar is heard.
It is nothing more that the humming motor of the neighbors tractor.
To the left, faint voices scream and shout,
It is nothing more than the arguing over last nights disaster.
In the sky there is a loud chirp,
It is nothing more than a mama bird looking for food.
All this happens, as the world goes by.
Good job Emily. I enjoyed the emphasized repetition of, "it is nothing more than," in your poem. Your title is a perfect fit for your poem, and it is interesting to read how simple worldly occurrences can be written so poetically.
ReplyDeleteFrancesca Mildred Gualano