Listen

 

I like sound wound tight
as rubber that turns the prop
of a kid’s model plane in flight.
Words turn on the tongue,
tipity tap their soft-shoe ways
across a stage, the music strung,
a dance being spoken.
I read aloud when I can
to enjoy meter unbroken.

Sound found.
Rhythm rewound.

*

©
david coyote
August 14, 2004

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