Quest  

I dig deep;
Searching  
But finding nothing  —

There is no stone to turn 
Within this garden that is me
That hides the secret;
There is no message carved
In the bark of a willow tree;
No easy answer, warm and waiting, 
Scented of apple and cinnamon,
At an open window.

There is just me

Off in the distance 
I hear the screech 
Of an unseen bird,
— A single call,
No further warning needed;

The sky breaks into silence
That spreads in pale blue ink;
The horizon stands
At attention,
Guarding the gate
Lest anyone gets
Too close.  

But no one has ever 
Touched the horizon
And anyone who’s ever tried
Has found themselves running
In circles.

If I stand completely still
And close my eyes
I can almost hear it laughing,
But morning will find me
A pillar of salt
If I listen too long
And I must move on;
There is another sound
To focus on...

The sound of my own breath

If I didn’t know better,
I’d stop digging,
But I still recognize 
The tune


Janet Reid
june 2008


 
Awarded by Poetic Constellations




  
Awarded by Muse Mongers Motel ~ Sasha