stirring slow awake
two feet walking
the sound of drifting waters
coming to shore in a
western wind break
my heart beats at the sound
immersion is best
my senses sing
there is no other
returning to land
the slow erase of wet
longing to return
what’s the weather like? white snow falling
everyday journal. day 3, page 3 [i think]
photo: magpie tales prompt no 46
sleepy eyed i peer through an early dawn window watching countless white flakes come crashing down, falling to the ground in a stark thud of lightness where no one can hear. amazing how such a roar could be so silent. the snow captures the imagination as to where and how this energy comes and goes, falling, falling…. perhaps i shall return to the warmth of blankets and recapture a dream i can no longer remember.
the picture tells the story. always leaving my gloves behind. how many pairs i’ve paid for and lost, countless.[ i like that word countless so used it again.] not caring enough to go back and retrieve. the brown leather gloves fit perfectly and kept my hands warm. someone else will enjoy them now. i can already see myself going to buy another pair.
three word wednesday: judge, nightfall, safety
photo: magpie tales no 44
…there was nothing between us. playing cards for years we both read and judged our plays beyond the snapping sound of brain transmissions. we’d start by sharing a casual drink in the safety of comfort and find an anchor sledding about in the candlelight of nightfall. too soon caught, the quiet mist comes. we first heard the loud hush hiding about in the fluid corners of fire light. a signal our journey would begin.
rebecca’s friday recuerda mi corazon [haiku my heart]
photo: jenny munro, flickr
wordless winter walk
in the clasp of his warm hands
chattering silence
the crushing sound of hard snow
melting moody marvelous love
another haiku friday comes along at recuerda mi corazon [haiku my heart]
photo: flying heart, scotty hensler, flickr
i only left
when the dog ran away
even the fire became cold
and then when you
started chopping wood
it was too late
three word wednesday: fondle, kick, sumptuous
fondle twilight’s passage
illluminated fire blaze
sumptuous haven hearth
wide window revelation
galloping gust
white falling snow
clear winter conveys
cold winter kick
monday poetry train revisited no 56
night stirs the stillness
cool wind canters
waiting siren yields
embrace the deluge
surrounded by desert
where does the tide conceive
inaudible noise captures a note
beyond the winter tempest
uncharted wanderings
waiting on the corner
dreaming of salvation
she misses her bus
