Fay Slimm.

Movement

 

 

Movement.

Dawn hangs on the trees, force slivers floorward,
slips into sleep's acres,
turns shade to tailgates of light over which rays
snipe at quiescence
before sunrise presence moves bleary dreamers
to wide-away doers.

Day breaks to bathe passive eyes with forewarning
for blindness precedes
flashes of conscious surrender to sight as inertia's
sweet stupor
casts veils around seeing but breath catches gasps
when still becomes movement.

Ears mistake sleepy whispers for proactive reality
when shaken mind rouses
to sense Heaven's infinity ticking away rest- time
making the richer
seconds remaining for flight's drowsy treasure as
night hooks day to my use.

 

Comments7

  • L. B. Mek

    a timely request, and a write worth reposting time n again
    a year or so since I read it first, but I recognised it immediately: fondly
    that choice wording of 'quiescence' jumps-out once again, dear Fay
    thanks for sharing

  • Doggerel Dave

    Sometimes (quite often) your poetry is pretty dense, Fay. And this is one such example. I read it, i think, three times (if you can force me to read something three times, then you have a teensy bit of a worrying power).
    Anyway... I'm awake now - awake enough to thank you..

  • orchidee

    Good write Fay.

  • Michael Edwards

    Not been on MPS much lately and haven't seen many from you - this is a great return read Fay.

  • The Uneducated O.A.P

    I too have been away, 2 weeks planned decorating on the grandsons newly purchased flat turned into 7 weeks hard graft!
    I missed the comments almost as much as the poems, although many on here I don't understand, lol
    And talking of comments your words deserve many more.
    Have fun, Bill

  • Goldfinch60

    Each day is so special as are your words Fay.

    Andy

  • mohangupta.suresh@gmail.com

    You have so romanticized that sliver of moment which separates us from the heavenly dream state and nudges us towards the eventuality of another day.



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