In October I posted two poems by this poet. This is the third poem submitted by Jason Visconti. He is the author of "When Guilt Calls" and "Stranger" both of which have received acclaim by site visitors. - poetheart 12/15/01
The propeller of a helicopter stops spinning
the rush of the wind drops and dies.
Airy parks that rang with children's laughter
a few leaves now dart around like ghosts.
Traffic suddenly stops.
A driver's head jerks back,
but a crashing bus can't be real,
the sound of steel striking steel
can be only water pouring slowly
from a spout into a cup, the light drizzle of raindrops
in a noiseless town.
by Jason Visconti