Where does the time go When the words fall Straight out of our mouths Cold fingers make typing hard Strenuous Even more than It already is Grinding down rock edges In the bitter wind chill of April, though the forecast Predicts sun all week I am reminded of my Awkwardness at close Encounters with the third kind They are music freaks People I have often known That tend to be quite nice And pleasing on the outside But I am suspicious of all I hear the time, see the sound Of the clouds moving, escalating, A semblance of rhythm, nothing More than a cigarette and a car ride I whisper in your ear And wonder if you hear The sound of waves. ///// More of Robyn's work can be read on Lightwood. Enter her name on our Search Button. Robyn Hager grew up in Morris County, New Jersey before moving to the Hudson Valley in 2017. She pursued her passion for creative writing and the arts at SUNY New Paltz and graduated with her MA in Creative Writing in May 2022. Her first poetry collection, "Sewage Flowers", was published in the summer of 2019, and her work has also been published in the 2020 and 2021 editions of The Stonesthrow Review, the 2022 edition of The Shawangunk Review, Lightwood Press, Graphic Violence and others. She currently works as a writer and administrative assistant for The Shawangunk Journal and The Kingston Wire. In her free time she likes to play with her cat, Vivienne, and two lizards, Salvador and Fig.
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