Dawning
by Yahia Lababidi
There are hours where every thing creaks when chairs stretch their arms, tables their legs and closets crack their backs, incautiously
Fed up with the polite fantasy of having to stay in one place and stick to their stations
Humans, too, at work, or in love know such aches and growing pains when inner furnishings defiantly shift
As decisively, and imperceptibly, as a continent some thing will stretch, croak or come undone so that everything else must be reconsidered
One restless dawn, unable to suppress the itch of wanderlust, with a heavy door left ajar Semi-deliberately, and a new light teasing in
Some piece of immobility will finally quit suddenly nimble on wooden limbs as fast as a horse, fleeing the stable.
(via atb)
