Don’t let the daylight come, with its demands and schedules to keep. I’m just fine here diligently plodding along by candlelight.

Barefoot and outstretched, enough space in my chest to go on and set me off to soar gently above that pond, croak my cares in a guttural night song to that bullfrog in there as he does to me…

I’ll make no promises on my return as I’ve tossed my calendar out with the sun for now. Allowing myself to dance infinitely in the sleepy haze of an uncommanding time.

Slinking into the deep blue of that old river, far past the cell phone tower’s reach, to convene in a most important meeting amongst the moppy top ones with sparkling eyes and fellow finned friends whose bodies feed off the thick mud of time, whose soft wet shells caress fallen limbs, create fire in the natural friction of their wonderfully slow methodical movements.

No agenda is needed as we effortlessly move about, carrying our internal compass real solid within as our guide. Without words we nurture this space. Oh this space…


*This poem is available in my book Soft With Me, printed and bound in Western North Carolina thanks to a grant from the N.C. Arts Council.

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