Archive
02/28/12
Calling Me
It's been almost half a vision-deaf year Since my eyes' ears listened to the moon's nuanced illuminations Refracting off Lake Nebagamon's faceted surface, Its scintillant ice-crystal coruscations Drifting down from deep in northern Wisconsin's night sky.
Suddenly, this lonely Tuesday evening lifts above the city, Tells me that I'm missing listening to the constellations, Gazing upon the ivory-hazed Milky Way, Hearing the Pleiades catapulting earthward, The aurora borealis pulsating across space's endless immensity.
Now, the hooked finger of late February's crescent moon Beckons me to listen to distant whisperings, Follow in the direction of softly singing spirits — Souls, ancient and present, calling me to rejoin my soul Where it's waiting to wake up, by the woods, beside the lake.
02/28/12
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