Where the light is
Between the night and dawn,
the sound of waking birds calls out and then responds across the view.
Not alone. But…
Waves meet the shore and slash against
the wooden pilings underneath some burdened boards.
A lonely chair sits, awaits its owner, cold and damp from dark’s scrutiny
Waits for mornings warmth and dissipation of night’s cold, unfriendly offering.
Where the light is
between the dawn and darkest night, the sounds of life grow dim
and sleep falls across the waters.
Waves rustle to the sand and tickle wooden pilings.
I watch my feathered friends hurry ‘cross the waters to their safety.
I envy. Then…
These splintered burdened boards hold me,
I lay down and feel the breath of day breathe out.
I let dark’s scrutiny cover me in hope
that morning’s light returns.
shelley rae bell
Nice click!
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