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Songs to Ourselves




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!