Knows
that old hawk soaring
in circles in the cloud
laden sky.... knows!
the leaves on the tree,
getting ready to turn,
and fall... know!
that old chair rocking
in the soft summer breeze,
a mind of its own... knows!
that marker in the cemetary,
half covered by brush,
forgotten... knows!
the baby born
without asking, left
in a dumpster... knows!
the young man dying
in a land foreign and wasted,
alone, alone... knows!
do you?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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