Fractals Photos Poetry Prose Watercolor
The door creaks open
leaks air stained by stale
the wrong scamper here
feisty mice chitter on the floor
a squirrel’s fox-hued tail
whiskers circlets at my feet.
I wish these interlopers
into natural nests while
I re-wind the mobius strip
reel back my missing.
Morning lights a shadow
a lump of non-lustrous fur
somber as a bastard child
mourning jumps the bar.
White as old bone,
frost wallpapers windowpanes
sunlight skitters wildly
across our wrinkled lake
and crackling fire spits flames
too cool to warm the air.
Today begets that space
between a hint of spring
and the final press of winter.
digital photo by sue
Another link to poetry. Poetry Magazine provides an everchanging lesson in poets past, poets present and potential poets future. Always worth a look and a thought.
Pocked by nimble hooves
five o’clock stubble clings,
stubborn in wind-chilled sun.
One six-pack of scrub jays
scatters the silence
tepid spring forces its way
upon the barren brow
defined by seasoned gray.
sketch by Turner
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