Tag: NaPoWriMo
-
Day 18
gray tree branches hover over dried-damp grass – last year’s growth – chimes ting on the steady breeze remind us of life still here
-
Day 17
I specialize in making other people’s dreams come true because tending to my own stings, asks too much of heaven
-
Day 16
how many times have I walked through a drizzle- dreary day like this — ice floes across pavement slip me quietly into their cracks
-
Day 15: A new war begins
Wouldn’t daffodils stay wrapped in their green shells, hands hiding their eyes, and inhale back into earth if it were really time for war? But, alas, they have no say, no predictive powers — they sway with the winds, bloom out of control — they only have power to ask us why? where? It is…
-
Day 14
I thought I had ripped that vine down dead, but it grows on, out of reach, even in winter, mocking me and my scythe both
-
Day 13
a word for soft green with deep crevices fluttering in dark, yellow-gold sunlight, unburdened by wet snow
