
A poem I had included in this collection. I’m glad for a stillness that speaks.
Still Speaks
Full.
Or portioned.
Light lifted from vast dark.
Or dark that nests focal light.
There is magnetic attraction.
To things whole, to things slivered.
I listen to the moon.
With slowness, and softness.
To the things whole and slivered within me.
To what is full, or portioned.
The moon still speaks.
And speaks still.



