I've been incubating this poem for a long time... years, I think. The impulse I describe at the beginning was a real sensation that took place as I awoke each morning. I felt like someone, or something, was near me... breathing or sighing. I could hear it, but I could not sense it in any other way. It happened for a while, and then it didn't. I can't explain it more than that.
After a while the idea came to me that I'm working on in this poem. This week I decided to play with it again, and I sense it coming along. To be honest, I'm still changing a word here and there. But, I just read that Donald Hall would write and rewrite his poems 100 or more times... so who knows... maybe I'll start all over again.
Image by Comfreak from Pixabay
In My Dreaming
In my dreaming
just near morning
at the very cusp
of sleep
there are whispers
there are flutters
there is sighing
from the deep
There is stirring
in its passage
like waves lapping
on a beach...
Might this restlessness
this rhythm
hold some magic
in its reach?
Do these whispers
signal fervor
like a zephyr
in the gloom?
Could this cadence
be a poem
eager for its
words to bloom?
© Karen Eastlund
Join the Poetry Friday gang today at Kathryn Apel's blog...find it here. Kat lives in Australia and today she shares excellent poems about her interesting pets. Thanks for hosting, Kat.
