Wednesday, April 20, 2011

The Fox Ran Hard But Now It's Finished

The room is breathing again, gently,
just a little, gently,
like a dog done panting, having reached the fleece-and-feather
sea of sleep at foot of chasing day.

You cannot, from the outside,
know the untethered moment
between shut-eyed waiting and shut-eyed gone
drifting.

The room is expanding, softly,
softly to contract,
enjoying the smell of being alive.
And my vision is blurry but it is sound.