it comes again
not as cloudy as the dreams before,
hinting more profoundly
something new is near at hand.
I can almost touch it, outstretched
fingers slightly grazing.
hear it hiding
garbled amidst the crescendo reports
of more familiar sounds.
who or what is this something new
sneaking around my mind's blind spot,
like a cool chill on a steaming
day of urban summer stranger streets?
this one hand in a dozen new
palms to shake
that feels of something more than meet?
but when or where
will the unveiling be?
will my hopes or fears