Day
Once, A sound A call, a caw Slate, scratch, reach Grasp Echo, I said, Echo I heard a siren before light existed and the long throat of the avenue could not swallow it and so it was its own kind of bird, A call, caw The kind of sound that grasps, that reaches What is under you, suddenly alight? What could have lit you before light existed, This narrow throat widening to call, to sing? O creation story unfolding into day again, Touch the belly of the bird when it chooses to fly Eat light. Find me where I always am, Echo, I said Echo
Oh! A calling (and naming) of that spark, or energy or movement illuminating the “space between”. And through birds! and sounds! and the city too! … thank you V, for writing it down 💜
Beautiful!