Yesterday-- I went to the drive-thru at Starbucks. As the barista handed me a cup of hot, black coffee-- The tips of our fingers brushed ever so slightly, for less than half a second. And as I took my first bittersweet sip, I realized-- That was the only human touch, I had felt in nearly … Continue reading Worn-Out Wednesday Presents: Coffee, in the Time of COVID19
Where does this poem begin? With a drop of lace, draped gracefully over a gallant wrist-- solicitious fingers brushing an errant lock of golden curls over the delicate curve of an ear most tender pale. . And my mind swirls with such verse as would blush that lily petal red. . Then I-- clasping that … Continue reading Whispering Wednesday Presents: No More Metaphors Required
The sweeping wind slices its way tenderly through the weeping willows’ tendril boughs Like a paper knife carefully cutting out silhouettes into a kaleidoscope of broken shadows, While the rubicund light bleeds in sun-drops through the jagged edges of the leaves To where we repose entangled in our restlessness beneath the shelter of the trees. … Continue reading Wounded Wednesday Presents: A Paler Shade of Truth
It wakes in its dreams and finds itself in human form, This is but a brief diversion from whatever it was before. It walks on two feet and swings its flappy hands by its side. It has a head with a face on it, and two eyes open wide. It builds up sandcastles and stomps … Continue reading Wakeful Wednesday Presents: The Insomnambulist
What is it that drives a moth to the flame?Is it the beauty? Or is it the pain?Is it seduced by the warm embrace of the fire--Propelled to touch by some burning desire? Or does the danger play a part?Does the bliss of agony entice its heart?To kiss the fire but escape the flameand dance … Continue reading Wondering Wednesday Presents: What Drives a Moth to the Flame?