It recedes, diminishes and returns on the back of a storm, sound coming from nowhere or out of itself, wind blowing past your ears. You are surprised, not so much by the volume as the distance it carries, even when the wind turns against your face. When it comes close enough you surround it with your body, the sound is familiar, though you are hearing it for the first time. This sound becomes birdsong, an infant’s cry, your voice, full of purpose and mystery it changes you forever.
Finding A Voice
03 Friday May 2013
Not sure exactly what it is but lately your poems have been reaching me in the most simplistically wonderful way. I always enjoy reading you, but there’s something…different in your writings lately. Lol or maybe it’s just me 🙂 Whatever it is, I love it! Thank you
Ronald E. Shields said:
Thank you t.dot. I wish I understood writing enough to explain what is going on…the only explanation is that I have been reading a lot of poetry so I am being influenced by some very fine poets. Happy to know you are reading and enjoying.