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Slumbering is sweet.
Dreaming an escape into the unconscious.
A death of sorts. Only in sleeping we awake
refreshed and untethered to the doings of
the day before. It’s an interlude to the future,
a rest spot into the presence of a brand new
day! In all my dreaming (good and bad), there
is nothing like awakening to the dawn.
I’ve melted into my sheets and pour into the
hour like liquid. Blurry eyed and semi-
conscious  (my head still in the clouds), I yawn
and stumble back into life, a metamorphic

Last evening a bevy of crows
flocked the treetops. More and
more kept coming til the treetops
were laden with crows. And they
were cackling about (I don’t speak
crow), but they were chattering up
a cacophony of calls.
It seemed urgent in tone.
Then just like that they dispersed
leaving the early spring evening silent
once more. The furor diminished.
The gregarious birds flown. No
ornery calling of occupation. Just
the cool night murky with questions
lingering in the air.

Late in the afternoonafter the children come running
in from school:
sun kissed,
windswept and full of the day.
In comes the shadows and light
belonging to all that is
blessed by its reach.
Silhouettes stretch their
long arms around ordinary
objects shaping character into
poise, thought and
pure form into radiant forms.
Kissed by the light
hugged by shadows of reputed
shade to paint a window
of new life, blending with all
the colors now formed by shrouded
spheres and new worlds to explore
inside these walls of
shadow puppets;
bringing the outside in.

All rights reserved. Paulette Elidrissi, 2013.


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