We all have interior melodies,
waiting canvasses eager to fill.
Uncertain paths where we must
strike out
to discover
where they lead,
where they betray us,
where they dissolve
into unanimity.
We learn to trust
these quiet instigations.
We step away
to listen.
We stand aside
to marvel
at tilted flowers,
blossoms born
from uncertain seed.
We watch endings
fade and deliver,
undetermined
until
they reveal
themselves.
We wait for words
to fulfill the longings
we feel,
trapped within,
bundled by
snares of
word invention
and insistent spirit.
Gently
to lay these aside,
to believe
we will not be
orphaned.
A blade of leaf,
A bed of grass, there
in the undergrowth,
a fawn watches
eyes wide open,
spotted only
by those who
wait and who know
things such as this
might be seen.
IF YOU ENJOYED THIS, check out several more verse at the Look Inside feature at Amazon: "Summer's Glory," "First Light," and "Wake-up Mornings" all await you. Enjoy!