Things That Cause Me To Pause Poem by Deborah E Cox

things that cause me to pause and
to hold my breathe
and remember
the poetry of exhaling

A woman with a six-stringed guitar
- or a violin, a friend adds - either one sings under her caress,
and this is beautiful, we decide

A five a.m. February morning, dormant in mystery
only a full moon approves through
sparse pines, revealing that running under a moonlit sky happened
ten thousand years ago, and I am a part its eternal gaze
over this sleepy frigid street

That same run, the smell of a wood stove
pine crackling, pungent air
prodding lungs gasping for breathe in the searing cold
as I fight the desire
to slow my pace

The surprise of words
the hesitation and roll of consonants on a page
the imagery of a pearl dress
sudden nakedness uttered out loud, filling a empty room,
the seduction and arousal of vowels

Simpler things.

The stark, five-year old wonder over ripples
that an abandoned stick
carves in a winter puddle,
declarations of delight at these
impromptu waves amid the pungency of rotting leaves

A friendly pint, enshrouded with wooden beams
and century-old stone,
the mortar of laughs and anecdotes.
Conversation, merely its ebb and flow,
nothing more - perfect

A sleeping baby in a new father’s cradled embrace.
The outrageous courage of walking away.
The repose of your hand on my cheek

This grey winter morning
A new chord
A blank page
A pause