Full Circles

lethargic croaks astir in the awakening chill

erratically calling out into daybreak hues
                 a primeval appeal -

                               cold-blooded wanderlust
nudges the senses in drowsy winter still

 
the subtly startling echoes -
                 a thunder clap’s rousing appeal;
                               the lightning bolts understood voice
                               on a distant mountain foothill

shapeless silence has no partitions
nor compass lines to navigate across
fragile boundaries do fall
                 where full circle's refrain;
                               flow the traces within the ashes
                               what life was before it all changed
a familiar voice

in the distance beckons
stirring memories of a fragile heart’s fading psalm
knowing I have passed on down,
circled back full this well-trodden road,

 
                               still searching through
                               the sounds of silence
                                                        once more...


harlon rivers © January 25, 2016