I go out, and come back –
to the low voices of everyday
concrete saying stay,
voices that are each time fainter
I go out, and come back –
in sun, in mist, in rain –
and each time the tether
is less, and closer to temporary
each time the river’s shout
grows louder and I am more
cedar and stone, more
singing creek and warbler
I go out, and I am more
simply by being less
© Sarah Whiteley
I love this, Sarah – that tether has grown thin for me too. ❤️
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❤
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Ebbxactly! 🙂
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Reblogged this on Ben Naga and commented:
Ebbxactly! 🙂
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What a wonderful write IMHO….just love it!
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Beautiful.
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Perfect!
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ahhh! Brilliance. I know this very sensation. Great capture!
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