Listening

Do you ever cup your hands together,
press your mouth to one end
and just breathe?
Wait as the warmth begins to tingle over stiff joints and frozen fingertips?
Warm what has been waiting since the last communication?
Then do you whisper deadened secrets to the hidden crevice of your palm?
Perhaps you’ve relish long pressed achievements
that have been so long been compressed between two folded pages
like a preserved flower
picked out if it’s bloom?
Or have you kept a fountain of imagination through pictures painted by your hands?
Just maybe though, you have counted out each line upon your hand,
Marking the days till one,
When you finally press your ear against your living flesh,
Just to hear the susurrations of the stratosphere?

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3 thoughts on “Listening

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