Iowa Writing Project


Kip (Contoocook, New Hampshire)

Gray fog slowly dissipates
Bringing from darkness of sleep
To the opening of your eyes.
It stays foggy as you regain sight
The first bird lays out its rich song.
A cricket adds its thoughts like a clarinet.
Every sound joins in making a crescendo
impossible by man.
It suddenly stops...
Should I move?
What will happen?
A nightingale adds its last notes
The birds go suddenly loud as the sun peers over the horizon.
A gold mixes with green,
Throwing the fog away like a scarf.
The birds die down to an aggravating chatter.
The light that was dim now seems brilliant.
Muscles move telling the brain of their problems.
A coolness runs over.
You get up.
Senses take over.
Eyes darting
A leaf pile blows over.
The birds take flight because of the movement.
Why did we move?
Why rush?
What little ripple in the world did we just make?
That little ripple could do so much.
Was it worth it?