Fall Back

Listen. 
What if I wake
inside the darkness? 
Time
as measured by clock
is already invented.

Grayscale
every step reveals
a fold of fog, a footprint
—enough
to call the heartbeat to attention. 

I begin my days 
in the hour of owl-light.

I have shared the coloring-time
for a season
with morning commute
taking on faith 
the secret sounds of dawning. 

Now
for a shifting space
as hazels harden
I may brace against 
the horned one's voice 
wrung clear across the fields. 

I begin my praise
in the hour of owl-light.

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This post includes an original, never-before-published poem. I release about one of these per month, plus a recording, and sometimes a short, rambling reflection. If you enjoyed this post (and would like more poems!) please consider writing me a letter.