Clatter

I'll just admit:

wind is harassing

my little red shack.

Trembling, it cries,

and sounds like

a big baby rattle

(an object made,

I do believe,

to mimic some

ancient sound) 

It’s not unlike

the insanity

of endless ideas

clattering my

eyes and ears,

fingers and tongue

to collaborate

and re-create

the simple echo of 

what I’ll just admit.