I’m listening as silently to me
as possible. I’m mutely moving now,
awaiting hunger’s neat necessity,
fatigue’s demand against my furrowed brow,
a healing palm upon me calm and clean.
My appetites misfire blanks in kind
and I’ve no clue to ravel what I mean.
I listen inwardly today, and mind.

I ply the fibers and a backward net
is tossed light-sequined on a memory
too rushed and full. Recalling I forget
myself, seduced to watch a swaying tree
that now supports a heavy crow. Return
I shall and live a bit and better learn.