The horizons dark horse looms across the skyline
shadows gather under silent storms
grey skies lower their mantle
time chips the day into pieces of patience

I wait for the doorbell to break the silence into action
alone, just writing and writing
thoughts in a flurry, everyone gone
Quietude has a soft  language stirs the past

journeys milestones flow past
and I see moments of relish slip and slurp
even as I savour the best for last

my mind is moving from poetry to prose again
and the story takes on an urgency
of raging fires, lost loves, longed-for newness.

Full circle.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 days ago

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