This circle of hope
holds out its lips
to feel the whisper of wind
sigh your name--
That name known
to the most lowly of creatures.
I turn to hold your heart on my mouth
where I touch
the breath of time,
moving to the essence of blood,
of the tear,
of heart’s incessant beat-
I know in the small secret part of my soul
that I will speak your name forever
to the winds,
to the rain,
and in the hall of the end of my time.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012
Apparently, I need to include excess verbiage in this hub to satisfy HP's automatic "substandard" warning. Having done so, I again ask that HP change its policy to allow the shorter forms of poetry.