For the sake of keeping in step with Jane’s Challenge “A Month with Yeats” – Day 4, I offer this silly little verse. I had been working on a lovely, mystical yarn on and off today, and dozed for a second with my finger pressed on the cursor, deleting all but a few words. Gone forever! Of course I couldn’t remember what I had written, and with the day fading, I plunked these lines together to satisfy the task at hand. I’m not as happy with it as I had planned to be…but maybe that is the point of Yeats’ words, in the prompt for today:
“…till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.” W.B. Yeats
I’ve sensed their presence late at night
swooning close to count my breathing
‘midst restless dreams and tiny deaths
until the dawn
I don’t know if they are angels,
faerie folk or something grim
every night I reap their favor…
another day
won’t say I am superstitious
but just in case they’re listening
I say a prayer my soul to keep;
it doesn’t help me sleep…for that
I count some sheep
~kat
like mercury colliding... 