Friday Night Meeting (Poem)

Friday night, we met for dinner
End of work-week ritual meant
To honor a freedom dwindling
   unknown to us as we enjoyed
   our evening in preparation
   for indefinite remainders.    

They arrived in a pair, through push–
   doors into the new-city pub
   Couldn’t believe my eyes, only
   gawp as he arrived—veritable,    
   familiar and true . . . back they moved
   shooting pool in view, a short stop
   on Friday’s itinerary.

   They never made it—Friday night
      meetings lead to like encounters
   As luck would have . . . or fate or chance
   My old friends, our table instead

Photo by Adrienn on

Sounds In The Night

Noise of silence . . . of falling asleep . . .

Have you experienced, as you lay ear-upon-ground

Not voices, nor creatures or dissonance, but a sensical crepitation . . .

An interesting, unending—completely reliable pulsation

 . . . eventually recognized . . .

the buffered churning
mechanical pumping
never-ending, reliable
soothing sounds of
overnight, metal workhorses

     As deepest silence makes evident
     Earth groans under local pumpjacks

Prompted by Fandango post at This, That, and The Other
(Ragtag Daily Prompt—crepitate)

Featured photo by Arne Hückelheim, CC BY-SA 3.0

Video features sounds of an oil pumpjack via BlackAtom Productions (“Rest and Relaxation” sleep videos)

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Poem ©2022 LifePoetic