and feathers
                     a tilt of the chin

                                         shhhhhh: let him sleep
                                         if you wake him he will goad games with the piano tuner
a velvetheavy curtain falls – skims feathers into swirls and flurries
bottles whisper

                                                                        a glint 
                                                                        starlight on a bell jar
                                                                        lidd ed watch

Time ticks
the dust motes dance
and gather, grey swathes whisper over every surface
breath bated

seasons circle, dragging days through balmy nights
and over frost~cracked pavements.
all is still and muted
for now


2 Responses

  1. this is beautiful and wonderful.

    and amazing and difficult to read with the news of Paul’s passing so fresh for me…almost as if this was written after he died rather than posted before (unless you changed the publication date?)

  2. No, I didn’t know.

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