Caged on the edge of a forest without boundaries; wind chimes shivered in silence. Youth held its breath. The night squirrels feast and fly. The owls turn their heads judging distance from prey to ground against a midnight sky. I escape, I must make it through the night, I must make it, not just try.
With empty pockets, abandoning the compass of my mind, I make haste with unforeseen insensibility up the path, as an invited house guest, for reflection and a warm breakfast before my morning flight, sorrow less and free.
A still reflection left on a spoon, sinks into a bowl of abandoned oatmeal.
Dark moss seeking sun
Birch bent with acknowledgement
Child runs to mother.
Grass rising in dew
Casts crushed footsteps aside
Seeks Father in child.
Never finding ether one.
1st. draft 1/14 Title Piece for vol.I of IV “The Night Before Breakfast”