Thoughts Have Hands

Chill morning air

Thrills bare skin.

The echo of a train

           Rumbles old rails

                     Far in the distance. 

A long low moan

Lays down the bass

Rises in tone

whistles a warning

                  Trills a high note.

A background rhythm,

clatters through town on steel tracks.

My favorite companion sits beside me,

Quiet as dew, we watch and listen

            Slowness brews.

Want nothing. 

Enjoy the atmospheric transitions :

Thoughts curl under my nose,

Emotions take a nap.

With dawning awareness

Imagination peaks

plans for the best stretch thin.

 The sun melts shadows 

                     Time temps doing 

In this happy place

              Being commands

Holds space for healing. 

The first gray squirrel scurries down

The big oak tree

         Stands his ground

                    Tail up and unguarded,

Same as ever

         Signals constancy. 

The last hummingbird of fall

                             circles the feeder.

Two cardinals take wing and

          Silence sings.

THH

9/18/25

Revised 12-30-25

This entry was posted on September 18, 2025 at 2:06 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.