Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: February 18.18

Of the dawn I asked

Do you burn with frost or fire?

Is this the scald

of ice or ire?

Are you flushed with fever

reflected pain

or with northern lights

of frigid disdain?

 

 

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Connections: February 17.18

Night light

haze and drift

shade and shadow

rise and shift

Stygian flow

through hollow space

hobgoblins of life

dance on my face.

 

Thanks yet again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 


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Connections: February 12.18

Icy visage

deck as mirror

transparent message:

winter’s still here.

Encased in numbing

frozen air

the world succumbs

to dark despair.

But wait! What errant

buoy is this?

What harbinger

of warming bliss?

Why does it glower

all grumpy of feather

as though I ordered

this lousy weather?

 

Yes, robins, dear reader! A red-breasted throng of them on the heels of freezing rain. And all frowning. What did they expect? Palm trees?

 

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Connections: February 8.18

Memo to brain:

heed this sign

a walk becomes plod

hunched and bovine.

It behooves you to skip

stop dragging your feet

tap mental toes

to some irregular beat.

Indulge in some jigs

whirlies and prances

a writer fares ill

if her brain never dances.

(And maybe that is true for all of us.)

 

Thanks yet again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 


4 Comments

Connections: February 6.18

Balustrade in the woods

wants authenticity

neither built by squirrels

nor grown spontaneously.

Its lines and neat-hewed angles

perhaps herein discordant

but for those of certain age

orthopedically accordant.

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

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