yesterday-
with a ghosty-blanked chalkboard mind-

i walked with the lake,
and the flowers and the trees,
and the clouds I closed my eyes.

a plant jokingly held my hand.
he was a spiny, furrowed fellow.
i patted him gently and bid him well.

on the bridge was
well,
me.


I perched-- I watched a channel do its chores.
the water burbled cool and clean as soap,
washing its sands and scrubbing all the fishes.

the sun, I saw, was sleepy.
it blinked a cloudy lash a time or two,
and, gently closing, powdered me with dusk.

the sky drew up and sneezed.
a laughing couple ambled by, hands entwined, seeking shelter from the storm--
god bless you.

And I followed those two steps-
not too close, but also wet-
and waved the choppy lake a quick farewell.
we foppish, bickering featherbaskets; Shh--
I hear whispers: don't look now, but-
we tumble and slide
away from the dumb glaze of a soppy, ancient cloud

wooly as an old, dry buffalo, panting
lonely and cold after her herd

(she hasn't met that frosted, pulpy pit-pat
-SPLAT
her fellows found when They rolled down
from that icy, solid sheet -

) which is lovely, but seagulls?

With warming shrugs,
we float to chase the sun.






//
or i guess i could have just taken a picture,
but .. words are prettier?

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notyourbroom

September 2008

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