tiny feather-winged invader
storms my laundry room
attempting retreat from small arms
and boyish shouts
imagined enemy soldiers
merely heading off to school
scruffy young wren
breast heaving
trembling with terror
strangely unwilling
to retrace flight
to refind freedom

with door open
i take to the porch
encouraging him
in unfamiliar
to join me
back to his great outdoors
filtered through the heavy gray
golden rays sketch their wild geometry
gentle february gusts dissolve ominous banks
into fluffy wisps
promising blue beyond

dusty rocking chair beckons
i sit to wait
not alone on my white-railed perch
stalked without stealth
by black furry predator
purring with chainsaw fervor
he pounces
conquers my lap handily
sets with diligence to pierce my bathrobe
a million times
with hunter-sharp claws
kneading furiously
an angry baker unleashing frustration
on stubborn dough
this beast patrols these woods
night and day
only rarely
settling within human reach
to rest
to eat food without fur or feather
yet now he circles
curling tight
nudging my hand with cold whiskered nose
pretending to be posh creature of leisure
yet ears alert
give him away
as more mighty nimrod
than housecat

over that rusty roar
of feline bliss
my stillness convinces woodsy ones
it’s safe to sing
layers of earthy sound
upon whistle
upon cry
upon tinny caw
the gentlest cacophony
primitive symphony
doppler of goose call
in migratory cadenza

i wonder
why God
keeps His silence with me
to the chapel
filled with heaven-speak
awaiting me
on my porch


3 thoughts on “speak

  1. This carried me through from start to finish. At first I was trying to concentrate on following one image and chasing it through the length of the poem, but I eventually let go and just opened my mind to the rest. This felt like a wildly beating heart and eyes that see too much. Beautiful in its getting lost in language. Even the question at the end is dignified and graceful. What a lovely soul you have. Looking forward to more.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. If that was ramble, it must have been guided by some inner eloquence. Even your line breaks felt like there was a logic to them. ^_^ And yes, the pull of writing things down. Give yourself a distance of a few weeks from this piece and read it again. I hope then that you will see what I saw. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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