The Poetry Marathon

This ending doesn’t feel the same

It’s my first half marathon

After only ever completing the full marathon

I’m still glad I came

I knew I wouldn’t be able to complete the full one this year

And I waited until the last day

Before I chose to say

That I could do that half and be here

It was a difficult decision for me to make

And I’m glad I chose to be involved

And marked my dilemma “solved”

Maybe next year I’ll catch a break

Chattering.

Rattling.

Buzzing.

Deafening.

The evening symphony lasts for hours

Crescendos build until every musician is performing

They enter and pause in waves

Every few minutes, a solo, until the rest of the orchestra joins in.

The concert last for days.

The mating song of the cicada.

Hot mug warms fingers

Aromas soothe the senses

Tea on a brisk day

Mouthwatering aromas creep through the house

the faintest of smells at first, barely noticeable

Until they get stronger and bolder, melding together

beckoning for you to come closer

Unable to ignore the warring stomach gremlins any longer,

their battle cries deafening to your ears

and their territory yearning for sustenance,

you get up from your work to investigate

In the hope dinner’s about to be served.

Verdant foliage

glowing ethereally

Magic resides here

The humming growl looms

Consuming all in its path

Vacuuming the floor

Aromatic tea

Pages rustle in the breeze

Reading in the sun

The sun peeks through trees

Leaves frolic, their fabric sings

Shadows sway and twirl

A siren roars over the regular town chatter

its wailing disrupting the rhythm of a Saturday

At any other time on any other day, a warning

Today, the Saturday 12 o’clock whistle

Fragrant aromas

Gently emerge from bubbles

And permeate me