Sunday morning
before birdsong
I walk without eyes -
just sound and silhouette and shadow.
My boots crunch
through fallen leaves -
Ella urging at her lead.
A feather breeze brushes my cheek.
Her feet rat-a-tat upon the road.
A series of eerie groans
from the throat of a giant eucalypt
punctuates my reverie
and the sudden bark of a local dog
startles momentarily.
It's been a long sleepless night,
but for this precious half an hour or so,
I let go my discontent
and rub the words of anguish
from my mind...
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/walking-without-eyes/
