An Unexpected Poem In The Night
A poem. I haven’t written a poem since 1989 for school. I don’t even appreciate poetry. But this spilled out in the middle of the night.
Around the corner, light and darkness.
Senior now are those I love, vague finality now bas-relief.
Not so quickly, I implore.
And for me.
Frozen, yet perhaps something still awaits me, if only prayers.
Hope springs in autumn.
The sun shines brightly during my favorite season as it still struggles against mistimed searing.
Leaves rustle, fall, radiant cover, delighted senses.
Cool lets paws patter, small bell jingles, ears flop, tail wags with friends.
Insatiable sniffs no longer lag as in summer.
His perfect breathing, splendor.
Then at home, her purr roars, a freight train, a vice on my hand.
The early morning brings known surprises – foxes, deer, geese, heron.
Buses sweep isolated children.
Twelve wheels, meticulously timed, spiritually empty with filled seats.
I worry.
Raucous and together were our days on the bus when simplicity reigned, however baffling to us then.
Audio has begun to replace words, clear with detail, focus, voice.
Still, trepidation, unsure footing. Who speaks?
A writer posts about flying.
Wings long since broken, tucked away to avoid the sun.
Friends soar instead, bring me joy, family.
Kindness may be what remains, solace and salvation.
Thank you for your support, which I appreciate. You may reach me here.
Often my favorite poems are those that spill out unexpectedly. Well done. I love the imagery, especially in the line about the cat. And the fall leaves.
This is a gorgeous piece!
It's funny the way poetry sometimes appears, unexpected and unknown. Even when I try write something else, even when I mean to write another way, even my essays, even my prose, turns into a poem.
Thanks so much for sharing this!