Sounds Unseen

           
Water on the moonlit lake is smooth.
So smooth, surface ripples swirl
In diverse directions from an invisible hand
Of the breeze which I neither hear nor feel.
I only see.

Tree frogs croak on this cool August
Night and are the predominate sound.
These I cannot see -
Nor the crickets or the outboard motor
Droning in the distance,
Nor the muted, far off shout of a man
Who for some reason chose
This moment to raise his voice.
These I only hear.

A search light, probably some advertising prop
From the town beyond the hills,
Faintly sweeps the clouds, punctuated
By a red period shining from the top
Of an invisible cell phone tower.
None of these I hear.

Incongruous sights unheard
And sounds unseen search
The senses to find
An interpreter.

                            rlkilgore