Late Summons

It was, indeed, like a summons, when it finally came.

Oh, I had written a lot of things along the way ... love letters when I was in military service, business letters later, a memo here and there ... things like that.

But writing? Real, creative writing? I hadn't had time, nor the inclination for that, it seems.

Still, there was something that drove me in the direction of writing ... just sitting down and putting thoughts ... memories ... images ... on paper.

And, as I say in today's poem, it was like the whir of that most beautiful, most graceful, most fragile of insects ... the butterfly ... which brought that latent interest to life ... so that here we are today ... these few years later, sharing these moments, these thoughts.

The poem:

LATE SUMMONS

After enduring

vast, hollow

echoing years

in which words

lay silently

on my heart,

there came

a whir as soft

as the flight

of a butterfly,

summoning

them awake,

and my voice,

sounding strange

to my own ears,

rose in song.

© 1997

(originally published in Potpourri)

***

Today's word: whir

P.S. -- I couldn't help noticing that the hit counter on "Chosen Words" has passed another mile marker - 38,000 visitors since its quiet beginning a few years ago. Thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed your visit, and will find time to drop by again ... maybe even bring a friend with you.

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

And I LOVE that comment, Chelle ... you make me feel that I've really done it right ... still, I have to remind myself that so much depends on what the reader brings to the poem. Thank you for bringing your understanding to the poem ... and recognition to "Chosen Words." Best wishes.