Have you ever listened?

Have you ever listened?

Have you ever listened to the stir of souls, my little poet?

whom nestled beneath a draped blanket shroud,

bathed in soft focus light,

wrinkles at the brow,

awaiting the elusive verse

to be spelled out

like some spirit-guide planchette

upon a Ouija board channeling

the realm of inspired thought.

Lay down the confounding pen,

the glaring tablet,

to bear witness to escaping details

of the flicker from a distant storm passing,

to the shudder of glass panes in trailing echoes,

to the wake of a momentary lapse,

catching ear to the rainwater courses

filing over rooftop tiles,

then descending swollen eaves in light cascades.

Listen to the satisfied breath of child at ease,

curled in the fetal comfort of imagined worries

wrested by consoled invitation to scented pillows.

Watch her frown lighten

to the kiss of the evening

as a night watchman rings in the passing hour,

all is well, and all is right, under his pale lantern light.

Take solace to the blank tablet in your lap,

for the evening is worth the refuge of indulgence

to the sweet giving’s of this quietude,

laid before you as a banqueted feast to be savored,

remembered in thanksgiving,

against the peril of dark and troubled times.

-Mark Trubisky