"Noongom zhebaa,"
This morning I woke to the softness of your voice in my ears
and I lay in that pool of sunlight while you tripped like water over stones and the birds calling out my window.
"Minogiizhigad."
Last night there were the leaves, finally, unfurled and wet in their newness, shushing together in the dark, in the wind, and I stopped, paused with my hand on the door
and held on the threshold by that warm blooming.
"Dibikad,"
The heat a drug,
and I grew round like the moon, hips soft, curved movings.
"Aandi ezhaayan?"
"Asleep."
"Aandi wenjibaayan?"
"Into the day."
Such a slow spring.
And now, eyes closed, such a slow awakening.
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3 comments:
There are so many things I liked about this. I loved how sensory and sensual it was. How intimate and still a little mysterious. I just like it a lot. Maybe I will have better words for it later but for now, I'll just say that I'm going back to read it again and perhaps again. Thanks for posting/sharing.
thanks, ava.
you're welcome.
I feel warm, so warm after reading this (no mean feat, since winter has started to hit here, although it's nothing like your winters!). All safe and cosy and wrapped up in love.
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