Three A.M.
Standing
on my deck.
No sleep.
Something calls.
Still and frigid,
waiting quietly,
I breathe in and out.
My breath rises
in misty, white
mortal plumes.
Inspiration;
expiration.
Beyond my cabin,
I feel the deer
dancing
in the deep night,
chanting the old
secret songs
of their antlered clan.
Exaltation.
I watch meteors
drop on
the ridge top
like God's tears
streaking the sky.
Clarity.
Two coyotes
howl a duet
in the darkness;
the creek whispers
and I understand.
Revelation.
I think
of your flesh
warm beneath
a thick quilt.
Expectation.
So many marvels
attend me.
Surely I am
a lucky man.
- mce
Another poem written in my tiny, remote Tennessee shack.What a beautiful place it was.
