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.