Barely Audible
By Helga Kidder
No one sees or hears what happens
when the soul leaves and re-enters the body
as darkness settles in each corner
of the room and the moon rises over
the house. Absence of time finds me
perusing the shelves stocked with wishes,
when my soul meets with yours in dreams
confirming our needs. This is when the leaves
of our hearts deepen and blood rushes through.
Only the first clouded light of dawn reveals
the leaves have fluttered to the ground,
barely audible. Wakened, early winds shuffle
their tiny shadows into a moon dance,
a catch of breath behind my throat.
Helga Kidder lives in the Tennessee hills with her husband. She has four poetry collections, Wild Plums, Luckier than the Stars, Blackberry Winter and Loving the Dead, which won the 2020 Blue Light Press Book Award.