Shownotes
the listener
Laura Theis
her magic was so gentle
you may not have known it
for a spell
the way she was able to listen so openly
that we were each coaxed into speaking
our language
the fiddle began to talk
of the willow tree it had been
how it had feasted on light and liquid
how it had swayed and creaked
in the wind like a door
to another realm
the piano confessed how its beauty was forged
from the killing of a playful giant who had loved
his life of mischief and joy
while the rain outside sang along in the dangerous language of water
a complicated grammar of clouds and droplets
stillness and rush
even the silence afterwards surprised itself
for the first time
in the mirror of her quiet attention
and bowed like a secret word
that had suddenly understood
its own significance
More from Laura ↓
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One Poem Only submissions are now open.
I’m looking for poetry that lets the light in.
Selected works from this submission period will be episodes around the winter solstice. In the ancient tradition, I’m looking for words that celebrate rebirth, renewal, and a return to the light.
Deadline is Thursday, October 30.
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