missing inaction

Words have moved,
quiet birds
merged with breath.
even the wind
can't feel them

moving.

resolute, in
instinct calmy abandoned.
countered and broken,
their timeless migration.

i can't feel them.
their edges and curves won't catch
- speak numb across my fingertips. i can't
fit them in my mouth or shape
my tongue to dance their form.

i am waiting.
i've nothing but
bone dreams, nebulous
patience and wings of my own.
hoping, where prayer loses
its way amongst clutter.

wishing, across the empty
skies. my dreams fill
with language
in rife visitation
'til they burst into
waking: mute sand
moving across
blank surface with
the same shapes
i've seen from
smoke rising from
old candles.

throat-swoll hourglass
tipped on its side.
does anyone have the time?

too early to be late to be
waiting to take what it takes:
one moment's ample to change
a life, into open
invitation for
flight.