Comfortable silence sits on the sill sheltered with the ledge of the listening deeper. Shall I fish it from the wind flowing the curtains fluttering as a freedom’s wink? Or maybe, I will peer thru the glass lightly fogging a heart-shaped spot that is as transitory as the moment that has now slipped into the past where the cardinal’s song reverberates from the bare-boned scrub willows. Wrapping myself in the afghan’s colors I know to take the weave and string a lifeline to whatever will transpire. mj poem |
Monday, 2 April 2018
Comfortable Silence
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