Quickening (s)

Night unhurriedly folding mat

Ceding to dawn’s miraculous

Light splattering luxuries


Garden’s audible rise and slide

Soft wings’ whirrs and pecks

Hiss and whistle of life stirring


Chill’s cussed curs, mouth’s foaming

Wait on haunches to bite and congeal

Breath, get downed by puffy down jackets


Awakening daily to tantalizing patterns

Haphazardly formed by unraveled streams

Of consciousness, dreams’ chiseled


Gathering light and shadow yarns

Rolled into balls of wit, readying self

For another dogged coherent knit


Dividing lines separating life from death blur yet again

Fogged by daily events’ unfolding, even, as is, my daily wont

I firmly traipse with thin threads of just “being” tied to wrists


Tell us your thoughts