Sheila A. Fowler


I am the wood;
softly surrounded silent roundness.
The breath of your song across my ear
brings old poetry to life.
Don’t be afraid…
there is no weaving in me to shape tethers of,
I am only the wood.
The work of your hands across my body
brings new shape to old form.
WELL I know your hands,
for within them I am created and recreated many times over.
Don’t be angry…
I will not, can not sing your thoughts,
I do not know them.
I am only the wood.
I know only your hands
and breath,
and if I seem to fall too easily in place between them
don’t worry…
it is not in wanting to be held forever there,
but rather
in choosing to pause for a moment,
so they may,
in the movement of their passing,
reveal myself to me.

Sheila A. Fowler, 53, who has also written under the name Aurora Dreaming Moon, has always loved writing poetry for herself. She recently left a 13-year position as a piano/guitar teacher in order to explore less visually demanding career paths. Participation in this contest and in local public poetry recitations has been the beginning of testing the waters of other creative arenas. Her sign is Aries