At first it was the barest sensation
a tingle at the feet,
a tiny warmth that expanded and
and arose firmly through me
like a hot air balloon,
a faint smell of dirt
drunk with the morning’s dew,
a little chorus sung in the air
a melodic harmony
not cold like the icy winter,
nor flaming like a summer day
but quiet and gentle
until it was just there
“ Wake, ”
it says in a lilting voice
and sends those winter shrivers
back down to the depths of Earth.
© Copyright 2016 Dance. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Non-Fiction
Poem / Poetry
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