Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties. A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles Someone washed the blue skies and she knows It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home. Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom). -- Chrissa
I enjoyed this poem so much. Love the rhythm of it, and the repetition - and the feeling of sleeves-rolled-up spring activities. I once had a little shed that was always in need of cleaning - and a gigantic garden.
ReplyDeleteI love the hopeful feeling this holds my friend!
ReplyDeletea little bit of Wonderland just enough fun
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday Chrissa
much❤love
Oh, to have a garden with a little shed again. Simply delightful.
ReplyDeleteI always hate cleaning the garden shed - all those spiders! Your poem will inspire me to do it.
ReplyDelete"Once again in sequence." Yes, indeed. Order is restored, and so are we.
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