Hibernation is not really for the sleep:
The point is the coming back to life.
Eyes blinking we become accustomed to the light
As we emerge from our cave
However dusty or muddy the Spring soil may be,
We let it squish between our toes.
It, too, [...]
I was making up poetry in the womb.
Mother says so, and you know what that means:
Nobody’s gonna question it.
And I mean nobody.
She may not get around so fast,
But Mother’s got a way with her tongue
That can lash you within [...]
She invited me to take a breath and it was then that I realized I had not been breathing. I think, too, that my heart may not have been beating…
(It is my heart.
I listen for its beating
And hear nothing.
So I take another deep)
Diaphragm presses down
Avoiding Summer heat in the
Shade of the shoreline trees,
Kingfisher swoops to seemingly
KrAsH headlong into the water’s
This time, there is no catch.
Or perhaps she was simply
Being real in social media
As untimely as snow in Spring,
Love comes and goes.
Not wanting or waiting for
Mortal desires, it flashes
In surprising (perhaps even
Strange) acts of everything:
From the most endearing
Coming together to a fearsome
Love does not [...]
The moon does not blaze its way
From the cusp of the horizon
To the heights of the atmosphere.
It is content to meander slowly,
From the tops of the ridges
To the apex of its nightly rounds.
…or how about on Twitter? or Feedly?
music of the muse
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