Make it slow and soothing
something sensationally quiet
like saffron or soft like footfalls
in snow. Make it rise in afternoon
sunlight. Make it click in rhythm
to the stream or the heavy bass bump
of car stereos in the parking lot.
When it happens, it happens
but make it slide at delicate angles
a falcon can admire, a moonsnail can follow.
Make it stay unstuck, out of sand.
Make it curl and coil in squid movements.
Make the most of the morning conflict
of the evening thieves of the midnight
shadows eclipsing the land.
Thank you for when it comes
this day, that week, those long long
months dwindling down to hours to the
appointed moment, and when it comes
whatever it is, make it bloodless
like blood itself. May it find its own stride
within its stride, gallant like the gazelle.
In time it will happen, honest as the wind.
About the author
John Davis is the author of Gigs, Guard the Dead and The Reservist. His work has appeared in DMQ Review, Iron Horse Literary Review and Terrain.org. He lives on an island in the Salish Sea and performs in several bands.
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