Karen Jones
Awakening
I lie in the blanket of a winter's night,
rest in moonless, starless black.
No sound but a chord of a distant train,
rising, descending. Song without words.
The dark is kind to my wounded eyes,
abraded by electric day, ruptures
of flaring light, our sun-world of edges
and hardness.
The dawn window pales, bathes my eyes
in awakening gray. Blurred shapes form
around me. Spirits of objects. Shades
of their daytime frames.
I rise from the arms of the dark,
pad in stockinged feet across dim space,
light a candle.
Bio
Karen Jones is a teacher, poet, and life-long learner from Corvallis, Oregon. She has work forthcoming in Canary, Main Street Rag, and Cirque Press. Her chapbooks include Seasons of Earth and Sky (Finishing Line Press) and Gold Ray (Kelsay Books).