Writings by Tim Girvin
O U T: T H E Y ' R E

Right now,

there is merely

a sprinkling
of rain,

that I can hear
H E R E.

And sense, as it
falls on my shoulders.

T H E R E:
a wild turkey
calls others --
and chattering:
as birds begin
morning song
in acknowledging
the openings
to light, in the
e m e r g e n c e
of this day,
amidst the
standing
s i l e n c e
of the madronas,
guarding:
still.

Darkness sways
in its hold
on the
evaporating
n i g h t.

A promise of
that which lies
on the other
side of our
experience,
in contrast --

dark: light;

yet: unforgettable.

Grateful for
both,
I am.

In whispering,
the sentinels
of this coastal ridge:
r e a c h --

As am I.

--

THE NORTH | 4.44am

tsg
Originally sent: April 14, 2005

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