Longing…Mine? Or his?

He’s back

I heard his
caressing indigo air

liquid staccato monotone

Is anyone out there?

With each call I
held my breath hoping
a reply would ripple
back to him

If one did
I never heard it

But he’s back
and that
pushes open possibility

Some night
when I’m too
dense with thought to bow
to sleep
I’ll hear

call and response
ranging round
moon-dipped trees

A delicate conversation

and I’ll know
he’s not alone

© 2015 Tracie Nichols

3 Replies to “Longing…Mine? Or his?”

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