You want what you can’t have Reasoning somehow that seems more valuable Abandoning those who do love you Because who would want to love you, right? So you chase phantoms, try to rewrite history Harvest lost souls like shiny objects, glinting in the sun All the while they are burning your retina, so you cannot see the truth The truth that’s been right in front of your face All along
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #233: Harvest
Where once there was nothing Sprouts delicate symbiosis Emergent energy intertwined Into nature’s tangled tattings Blue green as earth’s beginnings With antediluvian memories Surrounding us unnoticed In a lichen lace soliloquy
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #231: Nothing and #232: Emergent
On a balmy spring night Where the gravid pink moon
Pregnant with summer anticipation
Lumbers toward full
While upon the darkly fen
A sign language of love Flickers in the misty umbra “I am here”
Sign language of love
In isolated umbra
Fireflies flicker
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #227: Quarantine
Virtual worlds collide
Airwaves replace touch
Community spirit
I am in awe at the resiliency and creative spirit that has come out of this pandemic. In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #224: Awe.
A uniting force
Keeping mewlings safe and sound Neighborhood mothers
While I was lucky to have been raised by an incredible mother, I was also privileged to have grown up in a neighborhood of warrior mothers. I had a sense of a sound safety net. That I would never go hungry. My skinned knee would be immediately doused in Bactine in front of whichever house I crashed my bike. A snow day meant making the rounds of homes for hot chocolate in between hours of sledding or skating. Some mother was always looking out for me -or relaying inappropriate behavior if warranted. Born during the depression, that generation of mothers had a rough childhood so they made sure we didn’t. Almost all the warrior mothers of my childhood are gone now as that generation fades into fond memories.
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge: Mothers.
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