Rattled

 

Just as the earth beneath you

shifts

again

 

the sky fills with

winded fingers at full roar

racing to pluck

wintry skin from the mountain

and toss it

like dust

into the air.

 

Go ahead. Tuck nose under

tail. Grieve 

that stable ground, that gentle 

insulation, that familiar 

woolly

silence.

Let it still your pacing feet.

 

For even as your everything 

shudders 

a furred knowing 

waits  

behind stinging swirls

and watches as even these 

begin 

to glow.

 

The moon is rising again.

Turn to it 

with whiskered growl and 

howl 

 

or whine 

or moan.

Make what was mute 

into storm 

and rattle.

Create 

with 

what breaks

a new song.