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Note: I learned to write an OBSERVATION POEM last night. This is just an attempt.


By Imelda Caravaca Ferrer

Hot stillness
The subdivision
where I used
to live in back in college
is quiet like a cathedral at noon.

Sometimes I pass by a street
and I am reminded
by the warm summer afternoon stillness.

The heat of the street
wafts up my nostrils,
clings to my skin,
perspiration dripping
on my forehead.

There is no one in sight
except for one or two dogs.
The people inside the houses
are enjoying their siesta.

And I, in all its stillness
enjoy the quiet and peace,
a reprieve, a solace, an oasis
from my noisy thoughts
and tumultuous, turbulent feelings.


May 25,2017/Thursday/2:23 a.m.

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