Day 247: The Things That Can Be Seen In Low Light

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∴

years close like days
in a hard earned week
and wage their way into the next.

they rise like the moon,
without sound,
unannounced,
all stealth and impervious as they pass
through the night of us.

and we sleep,
unawares.

i may have woken against my years’ behest,
startled by the sound of a falling star.

and it was dark,
when my eyes flashed open in the sharp,
twilight air,
and they searched in vain
for any recognizable shape.

what comfortable confine could hold me hither?

there was none.

there was none.

 

so i have sought in shadow
and felt in the black,
trying, trying,
to find a way back
to the sleep,
to the slumber,
to the safety in numbers,
each day, like a click on a clock.

but with time, comes dilation
and sight-filled adumbration

and in these days of late,

i see a glow.

all the shapes of possibility
are beginning to show

like barren branches
in cloaked terrain.
they jut toward the heavens
in the dark,
in refrain,

and cry:

“my root,
my root is braided in rest.
but lay your hand on my vibrating limb
and feel the sap that moves within;
for spring,
spring,

is written in my rings.”

∴

 

 

 

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