top of page


The inky silence softens

with the coming of a moth;

quiet wings, my quiet heart

opens to this velvet night.

And when the early morning glow

soaks the gently waking Earth,

young feelings will trickle slowly in

these thirsty veins, to oxygenate

deep in my chest of morning breath

for the first time since November.

Pale sunlight trickles along

a spider’s web beneath her silent feet.

The web of nerves and veins

beneath my skin is slowly waking;

the voices will dissipate like mist,

and I will see the distant mountains clearly.


bottom of page