It’s hard to forgive, but after doing so, it’s hard to see why it was so hard.
The present doesn’t go with last night’s dream.
My future rolls her eyes. Those older books
Stare at me with their hostile, angry looks
Suggesting that I’d not know what they mean.
My dragons are far kinder than they seem.
We drink fresh water from the ancient brooks.
We catch our fish with only magic hooks
And what we eat becomes our sacred theme.
It’s not that I have nothing to confess.
It’s only what I’ve done is far too small
To bother you with details should I sin.
I’m sure the bed you’ve made looks like a mess.
I’m sure you also felt that you would fall,
But here we are. And look! The morning’s in.
Linked to dVerse Poetics where Anmol is hosting with the art of confession.
The Sun is raining down on me
To warm the watery mystery
That also sometimes likes to fall
To change from clouds pressed over all.
Formerly that greedy cloud
Darkened, thundering out-loud -
What lovely gifts we freely get.
Some come dry. Some are wet.
Three crows landed near Pablo. Two of them pretended to peck around for treasure while the leader laid into Pablo with an obnoxious, “Caw! Caw! Caw!. Fortunately, Pablo was fluent in this particular dialect of crow. Crows don’t stop by without a message they feel they must deliver:
“You will experience enrichment beyond your puny imagination. All those plans you’ve been making will fail. They are nothing compared to the reality that awaits you. Any questions?”
Pablo and this crow had previous encounters. “Do I have a choice?”
“Unfortunately, all you can do is mess things up a bit.”
Linked to Carrot Ranch’s January 10: Flash Fiction Challenge on the theme of the idea of “enrichment”. The challenge is to write a 99-word story (excluding title word count) on the theme. Come join us with your own story.
Clouds help make the sunrise beautiful.
Linked to Linda G. Hill’s One-Liner Wednesday.
The bookcases of one-by-six planed pine
All screwed to dark but open basement beams
Are how I feel the language of my dreams
Twist hidden deep within each antique line.
I rarely read these books and none are fine
And no one wants them anymore it seems.
Like waters from some minds' now frozen streams
They'd flow for someone’s eyes, perhaps for mine.
Sometimes when lost I find a letter there
Recalling handwriting from someone dear
Suggesting paths forsaken in the past.
The words she wrote were reasoned well with care.
The details I forgot are once more clear.
The present waits then leads me home at last.
This January I hoped to see a tiny crescent Moon in the morning just before sunrise. I think such a Moon is upside down, but maybe it is right-side up as well. Regardless, the mornings this January when the opportunity arose were cloudy. The expected sliver of Moon did not appear.
While waiting to see if the clouds would clear I recalled an old couple. Toward the end of their lives they behaved like teenagers in love. They held each other close even in public. They smiled warmly at each other. They seemed upside down to some of us although we all wished we would have their right-side up love when we were their ages.
For many of us clouds get in the way modestly blocking reality. I’ve learned this January that all that is perhaps the way it is supposed to be. Clouds in morning sunlight also put on beautiful shows. Besides, it is easy to forgive all that cloudiness when I realize they also wanted a happy ending.
THERE'S VENUS, CLOUDS, AND
JUPITER. IT’S WINTER, BUT
OCEAN WAVES ARE WARM.