by Michael Plante

I woke the howling wake to see where it would take me
down upon the river’s edge where the moon rose on a night such as this.
I spoke to the voices of the past that sat there silent
waiting for my arrival so they could exist.
Things of the night we don’t speak of transpire
as though to say remember when?

Stirred to movement the wake plays with the mind
shadowy figures dance the night away by the river’s edge
trickery or Tomfoolery my minds’ exposed
as the river’s edge hangs on forever.

Adrift on the night air a feather falters
staggers and dies before the eyes that watch
upon the water it is swept way
never to play a part
of the mind exposed.

My shadowy figures fragment by dawn
but for a brief moment they whisper’d the night
and as I sit upon the river’s edge
a new day has arrived
the howling wake has forgotten my name
adrift like the feather it dies in the night.

For an audio version of The Howling Wake please visit my Youtube channel.

All compositions that appear on The Poet’s House are composed by Michael Plante and are subject to copyright.

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