Study for `Facets`, 2010, 5"w x 7"h, graphite on bristol, Don Winiecki


In a moment when I had no
Momentum, when time
Panned about me like the

Lazy flow far beyond an
Alluvial opening at the mouth
Of a long, meandering river

There remained a trace of a
Sense — but just a trace of
A sense — of possibilities only

Momentarily possible — for
An instant — like the instant
When you sense a bird has

Flown past a window open
Just behind you — an instant
That catches you in surprise

And is gone even as it starts,
An instant ruffled in a frisson
Of embarrassed excitement

Over the fear this trace of a sense
Of a bird flying past you but
Just outside your vision — has

Produced. I wondered. What if in that
Trace of a sense, at that instant, in
moment, a key to access

Meaning beyond my present was
In my reach, but I didn’t know it
Until the moment had passed?

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