| edge of something
there is little to say about restless
waves,
or restless feet,
that can be stilled and soothed
by the feel
of water lapping
over one's toes
at ocean's edge all the fever and
tension of life and living
leeches out, like salt into the
sand,
and there is nothing so calming
as being
at the edge of the sea where nothing
is ever,
ever still
or silent
i would be the sea
if only
it would not be
forever
endless
for it must be lonely
to be immortal
~mine 2007/07
comment
|
no watchman
there comes no warning in darkness
in the slip-slide of shadows over
dips
and around corners
the cries of birds fade to whisper
and shrills
call-out, call-out, to home,
until only the night starlings stand
sentry
the sentry is gone silent
no watchman on the street
we will have no warning
when night become discrete
~mine 2007/07
comment |
the dancers,
they say
i can trace no steps back to where
I was before,
before age, before experience, before
years were marked
by the steps i've taken
i could waltz once, with clumsy grace,
and
foxtrot to the sound of rhythms
older than the steps we traced
to dance within form and society
is a skill
to dance with the exultation
of a child
is a gift that fades as quickly
as the sound of footsteps
down an empty hallway
~mine 2007/07
comment
|
edge
of something