Nat Sounds

by Israel Allen

Wind whistles Scottish hymns,
air forced through small gaps,
fragments of autumn
littering Carolina.
 
Trees scratch a serenade,
friction-shaped notes,
bark on bark, bending
branches too bare to rustle.
 
Leaves brave blacktop,
crackling like a gray choir,
odes of October
breaking in their throats.
 
My stride falls in rhythm,
sole-stepping the tune.
Arrogant, I imagine
the song is for me.

* * *

ISRAEL ALLEN writes and teaches fiction and drama. His work includes the plays Ask Me Anything and The Emerald Heist and the novels Ian Baker’s .45 and Bibles and Ball Bats (writing as Chris Allen).

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