Awakening
At first you become aware
of the silence, the strange
quiet laying just beneath
a crust that cakes
the receptors of the soul.
Then slowly what surrounds
you begins to loosen.
Sounds filter through,
whisperings of movement
trickling out of the shadows,
part of song patched
onto a faint whoosh
of wings passing overhead
and the long notes
of the wind through wires
drawn out across time.
Something stirs, stretches
to unsheath nerves
anesthetized by sleep.
Beneath tall trees,
small fingers of light pick over
a scattering of dead leaves
as if looking for something
left there seasons ago.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment