Stones for the River

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

I Zoom in

close enough to touch

what's not flesh

After we’ve gone

(I like to think)

Earth will at last
rest ...

and recover.

For Weekly Scribblings #35: Rest at Poets and Storytellers United.

This may be

technically winter

but in my neglected

weed-filled garden

suddenly irises bloom.

1.

old lady —
instead of romance
chocolates

2.

old lady —
instead of lovers
hot novels

(I'm not being ageist. I'm the old lady concerned, and quite happy, albeit wryly amused, with my substitutions.)

alone —
the days
go by

nightfall –

running feet

echo

dusk –
children's voices
fade

Instead of the monumental, she opts to make small, exquisite things.

I stay in bed all day,
refusing the day —
this rainy day, when finally
I know my old friend
has said goodbye.