Dispatch #138
precisely nothing
For Lent
A voice in the night the sound of snow
falling through snow a voice thin with prayer
and winter and a memory of light
perforated by spring the sound of snow
whirling around streetlights an imagined sound
honed by the cold and held in mind a voice
in the night that needs no response
beyond acknowledgment the listening
this leaning in to decipher precisely nothing.
I finally let myself be converted to the app. It's a somewhat different experience -- the poetry on a phone is a different sort of oasis away from the world. Anyway, this is lovely. Thank you!!
Just beautiful. ❤️