Awakening

On a waning winter day
when light snow
touches the branches
so weakly
it would melt in a moonbeam,
a supple silence descends
a hovering hush
and a void.

With the call of a songbird
a flutter of eyelids
an awakening
and a vision
in the distance
Mount Tai
just as noble and humble
commanding and yielding
as I remember it
on that lighthearted day
so long ago
when my tortured search for it
began.

Copyright 2011 Paul Scharfenberger