PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There are pauses like

the sleep filled stretch of a napping cat

the moment split of enfolding wings

and small talons trembling on winter twigs;

and there are moments into which, entire,

the world could deftly spin

with never to be heard anew a sound

like snow to ground

and the salt-full songs that

sea anemones sing



and there are times when I

in thoughts mid-flight

have caught your eyes in mine,

and stalling words, of reason cleft,

are left orphaned in my mouth

and under silence darkly towed.



And yet against all such moments I believe that

if I

hold myself as still as dead moth’s wings

and tight as a cicada’s drum

maybe the air itself could bring

the wind to play a whispering

across your cheek

and sun-sung leaves

to fall about your feet



then surely somewhere else

in sunlit rooms

and in rock pools under foam,

sleeping cats

and pale anemones

might believe that was enough?



For if you could

hear indeed such things

as folding wings and falling snow

and the anemones dappled singing

who would I be

to disagree

with such finer points of logic

as are crafted cannily in

the singing

of the briny

or the sleeping

feline mind?