Unspoken Word
November 29, 2021

This morning
when I woke up
no alarm clock, no birds, no appointments,
I noticed there was
a marching band in my head,
many costumed characters
wanting to make some noise,
express themselves,
play whatever it was
they held in their many hands.
They were already moving,
these horn-carrying players
of something or other,
going somewhere,
on their way up the street
and I had just awakened
feet not even on the ground.
Was I late for something?
Did I need to catch up?
Or was there another song to play,
the one with no notes,
no strutting, no sound?
That's when I sat up,
put my feet on the floor
and took another breath.
I breathed.
That's all I did.
I breathed,
nothing else,
an orchestra of love poised inside me,
glad for the pause,
conductor nowhere in sight,
baton in hand,

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at November 29, 2021 07:59 AM

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“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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