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Whisper “for it can be over in a whisper” Aad de Gids Another moondown at sun up Mark the calendar well This day, as a river, will never pass our way again This pebble that I toss, never to return, its milk white texture soothes my ephemeral soul This, the moment I know This breath, the one I understand Beyond now, a stand of mysteries Embouchure to lips, what music sounds? Whalesong circles my feet Dare I move outside, breathe different air? The light begins to fade before I unpack my bags Ideas fill the attic, I clean cobwebs, scramble for a pen Gaze out the cracked window See the blaze of orange pink, ball of day rolling down Another sundown at moonrise I am a pebble, returning on the river.


SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.

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