January 2018
I've tallied a third of a century as University of Wisconsin-Madison editor, almost 40 years as a father (five years as a grandfather), almost a half century as a husband, and a lifetime fascinated by sound, rhythm and words. Some of my published work can be found at conservancies.wordpress.com.
Singing Woman
There, queuing for the bus:
is she that unseen singer
who gladdens morning's rush
despite the city's indifference?
My swiveling sound detector
says she lives or works nearby.
She halts her tunes, resumes—
Before I know, I'm late for work!
Behind the cafe window?
Approaching on the street? But
"Are you the one?" Are you the one?"
would land me fast in jail.
I strain to hear her words
but her melodies spin divine.
I dread the day her lilting voice
enchants some new locale.
Still, my search pays dividends.
Not knowing which,
to each woman I pay regard,
for each may hold her songs.
Singing Woman
There, queuing for the bus:
is she that unseen singer
who gladdens morning's rush
despite the city's indifference?
My swiveling sound detector
says she lives or works nearby.
She halts her tunes, resumes—
Before I know, I'm late for work!
Behind the cafe window?
Approaching on the street? But
"Are you the one?" Are you the one?"
would land me fast in jail.
I strain to hear her words
but her melodies spin divine.
I dread the day her lilting voice
enchants some new locale.
Still, my search pays dividends.
Not knowing which,
to each woman I pay regard,
for each may hold her songs.
©2018 Darrell Petska
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF