Words

Write patiently,

darling.

 

Syllables don’t just

bounce

from cloud

to cloud

as if Noah’s Arc

was reinventing itself–––

 

a rainbow proclaiming

its glory.

 

Time–––

is slow,

when you discover it

piece by folded shirt

by flowing grass blade

to the piece of hair

falling on your cheek

pushed back by a stranger,

a smooth talker.

 

It’s like the wind:

how you can’t see the meaning

in words, you can only feel them.

 

April 29, 2014

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2 thoughts on “Words

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