Wind shushes the wrens’ chatter with
a whoosh and branches’ clatter.
The breeze aloft paints clouds
left-to-right across day’s white
canvas sky in swift strokes of gray.
That’s the same direction
these words run, whispering
their questions, wondering at
mysteries this windy hand of man
doesn’t understand from arm’s-length.
The ah-ha hazy answers I leave for those
discerning, far-away cloud readers,
once I exhale onto this white page
these black marks, which, from afar,
look gray, neither-and-nor.
Like those clouds, these sentence strands
scud east always toward open space,
resolute in searching for discoveries,
all the while realizing that dawn’s
only someone else’s yesterday.
With special thanks for the creative exhilaration and happiness rays shipped east by my friend Catherine Mitchell Dudley.
Shared with the gang at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night.