Inside my December room, Wednesday 8 pm,

the window reflects only me, but
I know that beyond, in the dark, the
branches cast their shadow
against the sky—a patterned whisper, a voice
like wrinkled wind.  Outside is
far away from the artificial glitter of a
wire-wrapped tree, sparkling a mere
imitation of stars, pretending to echo in a vibration
of what the night has to say—the messages passed amongst
the members of the nocturnal choir.  The
listening of the landscape requires attention—the trees’
murmuring, air displaced by invisible wings, thin
threads woven in soundwebs—stillness shivering the leaves.

A golden shovel poem for the dVerse prompt from Peter for endings. I’ve used a line from M L Smoker’s poem “Mercy”–a source for a number of pages of writing in my journal.

“But the shadow voice is a mere vibration amongst the trees’ thin leaves.”
–M L Smoker, Mercy

As I

as I s

 “Darkness came, full of moths and beetles. I was oppressed by the velvety emptiness of the word and swathes of soft grass. Then the fumes of the night put me to sleep” (Laurie Lee, As I walked out one Midsummer morning)

My mind becomes oppressed inside the dark–
words grow legs and wings like strange balloons–
uncaptured outlines, creatures of the night,
with shadows leaving trails of lost perfumes.

I wander through the absence, the unfull,
the forest of this opposite of me–
as midnight swathes with clouds of emptiness,
my wraiths go searching for a place to sleep.

as I close up s

Laura at dVerse introduced us to poet Laurie Lee.  She asked us to use one of his quotes as inspiration, perhaps for a quatrain with a rhyme of ABCB.