listen

listen

To listen is to lean in, softly, with a willingness
to be changed by what we hear. —Mark Nepo

welcoming the unknown
softened, responding
less common in people
but the way in the world

watch the doe’s ears
swivel, absorbing
leaning in
she will hold very still
or leap when it’s needed
her life depends on it

we hear all the time—
that’s what ears do
even while asleep
but are we listening?
willing to change?

This photo is from the Barnstorming Blog, which I’ve followed for fifteen years.
Thank you, Emily Gibson. https://barnstorming.blog/

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

can you hear?

can you hear?

sitting still, I hear
a catalpa leaf let go
with a tiny snick
spins and twirls in the air
lands with a sigh
on its cousins

autumn, the falling—
black figs bend
toward earth
acorn squash sag
on the vine
all for the picking

earth giving back
to itself—my friend’s
orchard thunks
with falling apples
no keeping up
with the bounty

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

I went out to hear

the lull at dawn
a moment of pause,
earth waiting to exhale
the affairs of day

then hummers whir
poke at the feeder
they chitter and bicker
pushing for domain

daffodils unfold
yesterday a few, now
over sixty, proclaiming
winter’s thin warmth
might become spring

the rumble of tires
on pavement, strident
humans headed to work
the exhalation has begun

all of it,
held in primal silence
all of it,
sacred ground