I cannot write anything, the way my heart tells it soft in murmurs or echoing loudly as it does cannot drift the way I'd like, floating free as dandelion seeds wild in these fields. I hear words like arrows piercing in. I feel shocks and waves the sea that comes to swallow. I face jangled places of these fears again amid storms of grays and clouds and after the washing rains the birds come singing, flying.
Fescue fields in view Electric neon butter ***** Scattered glowing beacons Dot the greens and browns Magnets for little hands Tiny feet racing to keep up A child’s laser focus To pick and pick and pick More and more and more Fistfuls of joy To tickle the nose To share with laughter To put in a pocket Then nap and forget