It's Still Life

Thoughts on the Way to the Garden Centre

and again —
that ringing.
ears.

lyrics?
what lyrics,

there aren’t any.

still,
something keeps time
just out of reach.

no source.
no voice.

only the sense
of being addressed.

it comes and goes —
a word
almost remembered.

I don’t follow it.

but it follows.

faint as breath
at the edge of hearing.

not sound,
not silence —

something between.

and later,
among pots and soil —
it’s gone.

or waiting.

I can’t tell which.

Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: ambiguity