Inside

Poetry

Lianna Zuvich

Laying in bed I can hear the knocking  

coming from outside the window.  

I hear it as I drift off into a dream 

of you and me standing  

in the distance surrounded  

by trees and flowers and bees,  

bugs and birds swarming the open meadow air  

longing for a sense of belonging. 

The deer and beaver drink from the stream 

running as if something’s close behind. 

The sky darkens and the music stops 

and the animals are gone. 

You’re there, but where? 

Outside?  

Still knocking.