The clock forgets, one day, to tick
the sun begins to rise, but stops and waits
just below the horizon, glowing dimly
like a fire burning in the next valley
an otter dives from her bank into the stream
and the water swallows her like honey,
without a splash or ripple
the laughter of a distant coyote is caught
in the liquid air and muffled to a whimper
the future is stuck
rain drops hover
the clouds stand still
we walk along with our hands in our pockets
and we find a spot under a tree whose leafs
are suspended delicately like ornaments
around us, shaken loose by a gust of wind,
and we lean back and sit in the silence
and talk about all the things we could be
as we wait for the world to start again.
Author’s Notes:
It’s very tricky for me to write notes on this, because I don’t think I have a good handle on what exactly this poem is doing quite yet. But I really like the combination of gentleness and uncanniness.
One thing I’ve noticed is that the ‘Favorite Line’ section of my notes has gotten harder and harder, because it’s becoming more common that I split things across lines more often now.
Favorite Line(s):
“and we find a spot under a tree whose leafs
are suspended delicately like ornaments
around us, shaken loose by a gust of wind”
Most Delicious Line:
“and the water swallows her like honey”