Friday, September 8, 2023

Waking

I opened my eyes and saw first

light and closed my eyes 

wanting a dream to take me 

into the day.  None came so

I got up to look into the mist

of last night’s rain seeking 

something vaguely familiar

like a fallen feather from 

an Angel’s wing, a bear track

glittering with gold dust,

the blues intertwined

with a hymn, some sign of damnation

and salvation and beauty in a seamless

robe, a seamless story, a poem 

with metaphors of love human-and-divine,

bodies as wineskins holding the elixir

of life.  I saw nothing then looked 

at this page and saw I’d seen everything

I was looking for – even the one I 

made no mention of.


-Byron Hoot

https://hootnhowlpoetry.com


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