The Thrum

It is before
the bell strikes
that I am

by the sound
a bright thrum
through my

perfect and

that remains
long after

solid, singing
notes have
come and

long after
the breath

-the last one

I wrote this with a meditation bell in mind. I think it could also be about being struck by an idea or insight.


There is a slow opening
a fragrance startling
eyebrows lifted
a simple truth
in a chaos of leaves
one golden flower
hidden by tangles.

and shivering we
were led by its
fragrance to find
a bloom more
precious than
a baby’s first breath
a gold ring slipped
over a finger or
the spring, and the first
strong ray of sun
higher and sweeter
than any other.