If I could only wash my age-soaked heart The way I do these clothes in this machine And trust in thirty minutes it’d be clean. I’d likely try it once or twice to start. What soap would do the best to tear apart What’s good from what has grown with time too mean? I’d make it cleaner than I yet have seen And wash it everyday - if I were smart.
These quarters are too little I confess. For payment ancient angels might want more Since no one gives forgiveness out for free, But then came dreams of lucid mystery. They weren't what I thought I was looking for Yet I felt clean enough to let them bless.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar where Jilly is hosting and the form is the sonnet with enjambment. I hope there are some lines above that represent enjambment.
I wonder what it feels like to pop like a kernel of corn? No matter how many times I pour a bit of olive oil into the popper, turn on the heat, drop in a third cup of kernels stirring about three minutes until the sound dies, dump the now fluffy kernels into a bowl and bless them with sea salt–no matter how many times I run this experiment, no matter how accurately I measure, I have no clue what those kernels felt. Some don’t mind leaving mysteries veiled. Some impatiently assert those mysteries don’t exist, but even they can’t escape the mystery of eat, eat, eat and then pop some more.
MOMENTS POP AWAY
WARMER DAYS MARK WINTER DONE
TIME FOR ONE MORE WALK
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Björn Rudberg with the prompt “consider cooking in your haibun and give us a recipe in your prose”. I have included my secret recipe for making popcorn.
Photo: “Popcorn Steps” by the author. Collage created using Google Photos.