Telling: Streams & Logs

Poetry

wait

Looks like snow. Sounds like rain
on the roof and in the leaves.
Pricks me open and bids me wait.

All day long I have been losing my way,
falling into the silence between gestures,
waking without knowing where I am, or why.

All day long I have stood on the brink of a great release.
Now I walk through rooms in the dark.