Gina DC: Continuity Cop

the sun warm even late in the day, though the air is cool
at this juncture, the golden hour is longer by half again
still but for glittering ripples, the pond is limned with brightness
and tiny swarms skim its surface

so many songs and calls in the air, liquid burbles and caws
chiming and cheeping and rambling, scolding and twittering
a thousand thousand indecipherable conversants with everything to say
and everything to say it to

currents and waves and wind in the air overhead and through
the creaking of the umbrella, the rustling of leaves, planes in the sky
trucks on the freeway and planes in the sky and trains through the trees
guitar and raucous laughter from windows

sirens in the distance until a greater wind moves the treetops
drowns out the manmade noise with a rush like ocean waves
but the sound is everywhere while the sun is warm
and the shadows dance long

the book in my hands is half through and grips my heart tightly
pulling it up into my throat until my mind is louder than the world
i feel like i'm dying; lungs constrict and adrenaline courses a shock
through numb fingertips

i am not on the back patio of the house in which i have lived my years
the world isn't lilies of the valley, electric hums, wind in spring leaves
isn't routine and serenity and school and the internet, or my backyard
or existing to skim introspection

it is danger and ghosts and magic and myth, the long memory of location
romance and tragedy, the bravery of the unknowing on sudden understanding
secrets and death, enormous ancient things at the command of the young
breaking hearts and living dreams

words not printed on the grey screen of my reader, but on my soul
and burned into its substance with delicious imagery and wrenching immersion
the story steals in and owns me, runs wild with me in tow, sinks teeth
and i forget i even exist at all

unlike dreams that do the same, i can wake from this
break from this
breathe

and listen to the windchimes
the birdsong and a distant dog's barking
a motorcycle tearing up the peace across the lake

look at the dancing shadows
the backlit greenery
the rippling pond

feel the sun on my skin

and remember where i am.

it's echoes in the dark, and frozen hands,
and clinging mist that soaks through to the bone.
it's certainty i've walked these haunted lands
and knowing i've not always been alone.

i can't remember what i'm searching for;
somehow these dripping caves are all that's left.
i think i may have been here once before,
but don't remember feeling so bereft,

for once upon a time my name was called.
the voice that spoke it was a sound too dear,
but name and voice, forgotten in my fall,
are distant and may never reach me here.

so onward walk i through this endless night,
for letting go would never grant me light.