swirling sound
milling feet
on uphill climb
some slow to stutter
few steps, stop
to retie their shoes
or look around
who is behind
many suppose
to be watching
grass grow
birds sing
price is right
(wowowee past noon)
they’re still here
pushing lungs to dare
irritable to frustration
searching for good reason
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem