THE EARLY MORNING'S CHILL

Awakened in the dark by a

subtle shift in the 2 x 4’s

studded brace and beam,

a crow’s caw, or the memory of

his voice hummed, whispered,

and eased its way through the

shadows like the light touch

of his hand wanted, but

imagined because

there is an audience,

his lined palm drawn down

her back turned away from

the early morning’s chill

before the dark evening’s

song could shatter,

a bare foot touched the

hard wood floor and began

its step-by-step approach

towards the sun not yet

risen might hear a poet’s

plea and not rise

upon a room without a sound

of more than one breath,

without a sound of more

than one set of steps,

or the respiration of

a plant, or the

lifted paw of an old pet

could have obscured

the quiet voice wrapped

the soles of her feet and

cushioned the early morning’s

steps

© cmheuer, 2013