Whispering of Love

Today I stood on
an empty dock,
its splayed fingers gently
lifting me, lowering me, lulling me
into a vision, where the horizon
told me that woven into the
lake’s warp and woof is
the gift of space,
the giving of time.
And a wave pointed out
that even boats need to sleep,
while dock-hands lift
palms to God
caressing the sky
even while I
divine the lake
whispering of love.

9 thoughts on “Whispering of Love

  1. diannegray says:

    This is such a beautiful, relaxing and reflective poem, Allen. Lovely 🙂

  2. dianerivers says:

    This just makes me sigh. I know this feeling well and you’ve captured it perfectly. The gift of space, the giving of time. Yes.

  3. agjorgenson says:

    “Sigh”. How nice to hear this. Thanks.

  4. shoreacres says:

    Funny — while the leaves are falling, the boats are being lifted. Autumn isn’t unidirectional! And speaking of whispers: don’t you wonder what the boats whisper to one another? the stories they tell over the long, cold winter?

  5. Mary says:

    lovely, thank you 🙂

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