Missing
not-knowing balanced
against the known: how sad to turn,
find you not there
that shift when the tide
changes places with itself
rolls back up the beach
the sound the wind makes
when it stops; whispery leaves
hang silent again
when it stops; whispery leaves
hang silent again
Very little is more alive than those "how a sound sounds when it stops" moments. Sudden absence, perfectly captured here. Salute!
ReplyDeletegood write
ReplyDeleteI'm trying BLOG HOP at Lunch Break, please stop by and share a link.
A happy Saturday to you
much love...
To me, this sounds how I feel. You were able to express it in writing. I love that.
ReplyDeleteexcellent! Enjoy your day.
ReplyDeleteGreat job.
ReplyDeletePerhaps not the happiest thoughts, but beautifully expressed.
ReplyDeleteOne of the choices a poet often makes at some point (and sometimes with every poem) is either to make it 'real' and personal, or make it no less real but far more universal, so that anyone can take it out of the box and wear it. The way Mlissabeth (thank you) did.
ReplyDeleteIt doesnt have to be 'real' to me to be real to someone else, and that's key. Not what I write but what you feel or see or summon up.
And yeah, Mr. L, the spaces between the spaces are where the interesting things happen, after all.