Waking Sounds

The tall, graceful mare

in the valley

has been put to pasture now

until her passing.

She called out this morning

with first birdsong

offering a brief welcome

to the day.

·

Or perhaps she was playing

with a passing thought.

·

Sometimes

I see this heart with hands

that reach out like that.

Strong waters swirl, then rush

around the obstruction.

·

My forehead throbs

as witness

then bursts wide

in response.

·

Otherwordly winds

have loosened

the old weave of habits

far apart now.

·

Transparent

I fall through the cracks.

·

·

·

~ChandaliPoetStory 2016