Poem: Zen Oleary

[image source]

Trembling

It's dark and

I can't find my face.

Did I leave it on a canvas

somewhere by accident?

Last night was filled

with the passions of owls.

Now it's snowing

wonder in my soul.

Dawn bleeds into me

playing its morning flute.

I tremble without my face

but oh, what a trembling.

Technorati Tags: Zen Oleary, Poetry, Poem, Trembling