Listening Intent

I heard not.

It was deadened

in the warmth.

Moved myself,

into the icy

side of storm.

Here I may,

I may not,

find a response

in wind whipped

domestic interference in

my awakened dream.

Could be though

that one hour

ahead this night,

there is only

stillness,

nothing to add.

But lo, rose,

it is there.

A steady pulse

crystal enfurled, radiating,

held in that

time before dawn.