May 5.24: Coping, but barely

May 5, 2024 by Oddment 16 Comments

The trees far away

turn to blue,

dissolving into the sky,

hinting of things new.

But there are slippers at the door.

The air rolls on forever,

wanting to be breathed,

a world in wondering

unknowns wreathed.

But there are slippers at the door.

Tail-twitch of squirrel

throws down the glove;

wobble of rabbit ear,

coo of the dove

beckon like fireflies,

here but then not,

threshold moment,

indecision-fraught.

Because there are slippers at the door.

Isn’t it inner-dwelt,

a creeping unstilled fear:

if I seek that open world,

will the slippers still be here?

 

Submitted by photographer S.W. Berg

and me

to Dan Antion’s

Thursday Doors Writing Challenge.

(Dan, did I do this right?)