Mondegreen<\/p>\n
By<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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The wind said something<\/p>\n
that mixed with the hum<\/p>\n
of bees and distant lawn mowers.<\/p>\n
What it said may have sifted through.<\/p>\n
It may have touched my ever-listening.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Standing on the road, searching<\/p>\n
the sky, I watch the way<\/p>\n
trees sway and wave,<\/p>\n
and a pause descends, like<\/p>\n
a wish, except palpable, like<\/p>\n
a sigh.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The message means<\/p>\n
to find my spirit\u2014wind woven<\/p>\n
with wind. It seeks me, like<\/p>\n
the fragrance of freesia seeking<\/p>\n
the bee.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There is work to be done.\u00a0 I know<\/p>\n
that much.\u00a0 What it is<\/p>\n
is a ribbon drifting, lifting away.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
So many missteps have befallen<\/p>\n
the road.\u00a0 So many turns missed.<\/p>\n
So many dead ends, which, in all<\/p>\n
actuality, do not exist.\u00a0 Nevertheless,<\/p>\n
I strive to listen, to get it right. To breathe<\/p>\n
what the wind said, hoping<\/p>\n
the message will nuzzle its way<\/p>\n
through my body, caressing<\/p>\n
desire, and once again guide my steps<\/p>\n
to many unexpected<\/p>\n
blessings.<\/p>\n
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