And I Sighed by Peter A. Witt

Pok Rie

And I Sighed

The wind moved through the trees,

a murmur like a gentle sleeper's exhale,

slow, steady, endless.

 

The sky stretched wide above me,

a palette of muted colors

fading into darkness.

 

I stood on the edge of thought,

letting the weight settle,

letting the silence answer.

 

There was no conclusion,

no revelation—

only the quiet press of time.

 

And I sighed,

exhaling the vacuum,

inhaling the stillness.

© Peter A. Witt

Peter A. Witt

Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet and a recovering academic who lost his adjectives in the doldrums of academic writing. Poetry has helped him recover his ability to see and describe the inner and outer world he inhabits. His work has been twice nominated for Best of the Net. He also writes family history, and is an avid birder and wildlife photographer.

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