Mondegreen, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Mondegreen

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

The wind said something

that mixed with the hum

of bees and distant lawn mowers.

What it said may have sifted through.

It may have touched my ever-listening.

 

Standing on the road, searching

the sky, I watch the way

trees sway and wave,

and a pause descends, like

a wish, except palpable, like

a sigh.

 

The message means

to find my spirit—wind woven

with wind. It seeks me, like

the fragrance of freesia seeking

the bee.

 

There is work to be done.  I know

that much.  What it is

is a ribbon drifting, lifting away.

 

So many missteps have befallen

the road.  So many turns missed.

So many dead ends, which, in all

actuality, do not exist.  Nevertheless,

I strive to listen, to get it right. To breathe

what the wind said, hoping

the message will nuzzle its way

through my body, caressing

desire, and once again guide my steps

to many unexpected

blessings.