Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Hum at the Threshold

The sunrise could not be more unobtrusive,
The slightest whirr of inner chemistry,
Light pasted like frosting 
On a two-dimensional sky

But there's no doubt that things are different,
The vines and leaves don't dare to move,
The old world gives no clues
To what is needed --

Where you come from, who you were
Finally matters
Though the voice may be as subtle
As it always was.