The Shovel

This is what my mind is like- it hears a simple sound, and oh, the imaginings that follow.

I hear a scraping shovel
Metal against ground against hard surface
Maybe cement
And think,
"Is somebody burying a body over there?"
It stops
As if it heard my thought
Then quietly scrapes again.
I hear no dirt being shoveled atop a grave
And think,
"I watch too many murder mysteries"
The dragging scraping sound
Stops abruptly again.
Perception
Sight
Sound
Filled in stories based on sensory input.
How many stories live in my perception?
Missing what is really there
Missing who stands before me
Hiding behind the stories of my imaginings. . .
If I could strip away the stories,
Listen with no perception at all to
Raw sound
Would my understanding grow to wisdom,
And my words find something sacred?
A body
A garden
A laberor
A shovel hitting the ground
Now with no one holding the handle
Who can tell what is really present
When the mind loves a tale to tell and a picture to paint?
Dark thoughts or light
The perceived can never tell how reality is shaped
By the story told
And choices made
Based on a misperception.
Now a child laughs in the distance
And I think,
"Who could possibly be burying a body
While the sun shines down
On such an innocent, joyful sound?"

Author's Note

My husband laughed when he read this. I did too. What silly creatures we are!

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The mind a wonderful things. It is good to use our imagination. You did.
"Who could possibly be burying a body
While the sun shines down
On such an innocent, joyful sound?"
I like the above closing lines. A logical ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Marianne Rose]

Thank you Coyote for catching the sense of the poem- the imaginative mind- and for your feedback on the closing lines. Much appreciated.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Marianne. I enjoyed your poetry yesterday.