You ask
where ‘will you be this time next year‘
While I
look past your shoulder at some shiny thing
Your smile
says ‘I must be patient with her mind‘
I see
hummingbird contemplate a sip of nectar
Your look
repeats the question with another tone
I say
Yes I shall look here deep into my bowl
We know
All that will be is there to know
A new reading of an old poem that insists upon returning to be revised and revoiced, one that drifts to silent depths, then resurfaces with a new albeit still melancholy melody.
This reading is for the Twitter Project known as #ReadMeSpeakMe, initiated in 2018 and borne of the endlessly creative mind belonging to @megwaf.
For Session 155, The Voices read my work with stellar interpretations and creative wonder. Here’s my own reading of the piece.
Thank you for listening. If you’re on Twitter, please seek out the other contributions to this and the other shining sessions featuring an array of international voices and their poetic works. ~f/M
Meet me there early
Drakes and hens in calm waters
Morning lights the bog
While you are sleep dreaming
a trio of shadows alights in your room
You might hear their faint chorus
a distant melody deep sweet and low
What message their voices whisper
a calm symphony or euphonious hum
Gifts they leave for discovery
light passages welcome a new day
Lift your eyes toward ceiling at dawn
imagine there cloudless quiet skies
Three shadows meet in your window
looking in looking out through you
Telephone
Out there in the woods
I see it through raindrops suspended
Armchair empty, waiting
Between wet fallen maple leaves
And sunlight
There beneath a canopy of cedar limb lace
I hear it ringing not without urgency
I pause and then I sprint
Who’s calling from where
And for whom
But I am slow motion
My breath a heavy sound
The ringer out of patience
How small are we how
quiet at the core in grief
when we have known love
Street art on these walls
I walk between here and where
Art is in the air
Who calls it Winter
Maybe not anyone
Maybe Winter ought be Wither
an unsettling in becoming undone
Through our adventure cycle we endure
So much unknown ready yet still unsure
We are not captains of our own journeys
until we’ve sailed far and long vast seas
Rejected perfection abandoned second looks
How fortunate the few among many
Who discover knowledge secreted in books
As vision grows blurred our steps grow slow
As thin petals yellow our music hums low
May your withering come easy
May your wisdom stay well hid
May your death pass swift and unexpected
like your brief illustrious lifetime did.
Heron and me
Wind and sea
Space between us
Watcher and watcher watching
Am I alone here
Or part of a whole
Belonging is fleeting
Questions lift and fly
Melody of swash carries
Choirs from other shores
Night birds glide to clouds
I survey you surveying
Graceful hunter
Sky draws her shades
I choose a stone to throw
Waves toss stones onshore From what depths have they travelled Light and heavy days
Pencil Notes 