Quieter Still Haiku

Remain patient
while the force of a lifetime
rearranges the words.


Not the Sounds

These are not the sounds
of nature – the hiss and suck,
electronic machine breath,

metallic death rattle
from a deep accordion vein
winding through the walls

like a shadow – benevolent
giver of air to each white room
where inside they suffer,

forget, call for help,
call for anything – for love,
and waiting, oh the waiting

for good news, for any news,
for sleep, for the answer
to a symphony of beeps

and alarms, and hallway murmur,
and yes there is a window
that no call of bird will breach,

no scent of jasmine blooming
in the night to ease the souls,
no kiss of sun, no breeze

to gently tease the hair
through eyelashes
that want only to close.