Zhuihitsu

Even now she speaks to me
through silver slithers of splattered rainfall
on awaiting glass.

After the storm, sounds of life abound.

Even now emotion sometimes rides
the wind, creating song.

Seasons falter in their will
to change but, there never has to be
a reason.

And even now, words await their
pouring forth across an empty page
from fresh spills of ink as
pen and I become one, speaking
from soul to make that first simplistic
touch upon a pristine surface.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo                   *All rights reserved

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCLXXXIII #Emotion, Falter, Touch
With Real Toads Kerry’s Wednesday Challenge ~ Running the Brush: Zhuihitsu

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Author: Daydreamer

I live on a beautiful island in Atlantic Canada.

25 thoughts on “Zhuihitsu”

  1. So lovely…this might be my favorite line:
    “Seasons falter in their will
    to change but, there never has to be
    a reason.”

  2. And even now, words await their
    pouring forth across an empty page
    from fresh spills of ink as
    pen and I become one,

    Love this portion!! Nicely rendered, Bren!

  3. Just the words “Even now..” are sufficient to sweep your reader up into this introspective piece, allowing us to think of what is lost, what is retained and what is recorded in ink on the page. Masterful.

  4. I can really hear this piece..the scratch of the pen nib over thick, luxurious paper..ready to soak up your words..beautiful..jae

  5. I understand ‘pen and I become one.’ When that happens, the best poetry is written, I think. Enjoyed this, Bren.

  6. I love this poem and these lines, “Even now emotion sometimes rides
    the wind, creating song.”, because I often feel this way too.

  7. Beautifully written…
    from fresh spills of ink…

    It is like that sometimes…spills of ink on paper until we finish and look at the art we formed 🙂

  8. “After the storm, sounds of life abound.” In every way that you could possibly mean this line! No wonder, then that :

    “. . . even now, words await their
    pouring forth across an empty page
    from fresh spills of ink as
    pen and I become one, speaking
    from soul to make that first simplistic
    touch upon a pristine surface.”

    “Simplistic” only in the sense that the touch is a reduction, a tip of the funnel cloud!

  9. as pen and i become one…crack that surface bren…it is usually magic when you do…smiles..i like the voice of the muse early on…had a bit of rain last night ourselves…

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