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 Jun 2021 Rob
sandra wyllie
on the canvas. I was
wet and dripping like a feral
kitten. My creator didn’t lay me
out in the sun. And so, my colors

run. The red and blues
look purple. The mother’s milk
curdled. Throwing me up as *****. And so,
I left a stain. Beaten by the brush

I lost my sense of touch. Now
I’m oily. I’m a spill in a broken
frame. I hang on the wall as
a flower. None admire me. But I haven’t
nerves to leave.
 May 2021 Rob
Prevost
Poem 146
 May 2021 Rob
Prevost
the tides that leave us here
crawl back to us in time
and by the shifting rays of sunlight
they hold us up to a discerning god
marking our segments of maturation
as we fold into the fragments
of what we have become
what life washes away
leaves us sculpted in the sands
we stand facing a wind
that has called out to us
since before the tides
or even time
 May 2021 Rob
jordan
blue sky grace
 May 2021 Rob
jordan
under sapphire-clouded skies
a subtle stillness settles
quieting an anxious heart
and relieving worldly pressures

breathing in sweet mountain air
our mother's strength fills my lungs
as up the steepest trail i climb
every obstacle is overcome

sunlight's touch warms my face
like father's power, omnipotent
and as my soul sings in praise
vanished is my discontent
An impossibly blue sky adorned with feathering mists forms a cathedral overhead as I watch cloud shadows parade across the valley floor miles below as they perform their north-to-south ritual under the paternal gaze of the mid-afternoon sun.  A gentle feeling of being here descends and centers on my soul, and I know that I am where I should be, and have been all along.
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