Moving Shadows
March 11 2024
Before television.
Before the small screen
beaming in the world
people busied themselves.
The local paper
was all they needed to know,
gossip
was entertainment enough.
They learned piano
grew tomatoes
read books.
Danced to big bands
and listened to the radio,
baseball and game shows
the weekly soaps.
Visiting was big;
for the ladies
sweet iced tea,
hard cider for the men.
People were content
just where they were.
Not knowing didn’t hurt them.
Doing was good.
I realize this is nostalgia
for a world before I was born.
Before war
invaded living rooms,
and when the blood sport of politics
took place in smoke-filled rooms
mercifully far away.
Walking at night
along the empty street
I see flickering light
through the glass
at house after house.
Moving shadows
cast on the walls.
And oblivious to me
glazed eyes, staring passively
at a simulacrum of life
on high def screens.
Sometimes, sound leaks out;
loud sirens,
shots fired,
chanting mobs.
No silence left unfilled.
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