AM Radio
And there's something said in the static.
The vibrato of life speaks a foreign tongue,
textured hisses and pops.
The AM radio fades
in and out,
and I feel small
like God's watching the insignificant ways
we float
atop the ocean
and restless depths,
we feel
the ground sway
in the sum of life
in Tuesday afternoons
when there's nothing to say
and in early December mornings
when we can't speak
because we're watching
it all unfold.