The Place in Me

Qui­eter than the end­ing of the night when the gray­ing of the black and
the gray­ing of the light meet and it’s dawn;
qui­eter than the end­ing cir­cuit of the tires on snow
after the engine is cut and the hiss of the brakes is over
and rivulets trail down the wind­shield and I gather myself to go in;
qui­eter than the empti­ness of sound after the echoed shot in the hunt and the hart is down;
qui­eter than the clouds beyond the tip of the plane’s wing,

The place in me where I find you and the noise goes away.

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7 Responses to The Place in Me

  1. Kathleen says:

    Very nice and I love the image.

  2. Rose says:

    This is my favorite poem you have ever writ­ten. I love you heart.…..and your brain!

  3. Kimi Glaspie says:

    Mov­ing and pro­found. Speaks of love that goes deep.

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