Upon Waking, a Lonely Cloud

I plant my feet firmly
On the rug beside my bed.
Where have I been? Asleep, asleep.
Vast distances caravan-traveled,
Ancient elephants carrying riders
In many-colored veils and robes,
Crossroads in the trackless sand,
A bazaar of human clutter and song,
Blind men singing on the temple steps,
Stores of gold watched over by wise
And gentle forms, she-touch, she-breath,
She spiritual weaving of starlight hair,
In soft hands she the world warming,
Nameless, ageless, not yet begun.

In the kitchen, a story going on.
A perfect egg is waiting on the counter,
Cold unstudied art beyond the frame,
Work not of clever man but raucous bird.
Conversing, too, are salt and pepper,
Ignorant grains grown bold in numbers,
So sure they are wise and sane,
Sugar, bread, and jam, a plate, a cup.
Trees are watching through the window,
Writing pleasure-notes in light and shade.
A lonely cloud knocks at the door.
The fields and towns have gone to play.
I follow them on fragrant earth-scent rising,
The familiar sounds that brought me here.

September 15, 2005

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Also by William Michaelian

Winter Poems

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.
Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.
Cosmopsis Books
San Francisco

Signed copies available

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