Silence-
the bones on which
to hang my words,
my early morning treat.
The morning sun-
the kiln of inspiration,
the fuel to fire
my imagination’s artist hand,
painting day’s future perfect.
I bathe in it, the silence
and the sun-dress in it.
The grey cat regards me
with his yellow eyes
and nods approval.
Carefully, I unravel the silence
like strand of embroidery floss,
and make colourful patches on my dancing skirt.
I wrap a bit around my arrows called Intent and Will,
marking them as my own.
With whoops of joy
I loose them on my day.
