Somewhere within the murmuring of things
that make no difference-aimlessly playing,
drifting in the wind-a loose door swings,
banging against a wall; the piece of string
that held it shut has blown away. Delaying,
somewhere within the murmuring of things,
crickets and tree toads pause, listening;
now they go on with their shrill surveying.
Drifting in the wind, a loose door swings
in widening arcs. Each rusty iron hinge
creaks in a different key: each is decaying,
somewhere within. The murmuring of things
wells up-the quickening thrum of wings,
the pulsing, intersecting voice swaying,
drifting in the wind. A loose door swings;
no torch, no adventitious thread brings
meaning to this maze, this endless straying
somewhere within the murmuring of things.
Drifting in the wind, a loose door swings.
Labyrinth
Jared Carter
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Poem topics: away, tree, voice, wall, iron, endless, thrum, difference, wind, door, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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