This is one of the prompt images Carrie brought in for WordCrafters last Wednesday. The prompts this week were multifaceted and I chose a different direction during the meeting but really liked this image. Couldn't think of a good direction until today. Which might have to do with this week bringing in all the summer humidity and most of the heat. And mosquitoes. Definitely in the mood to get the non-volunteer sunflowers in the ground to see how they do compared to the ones the birds have scattered among the pots and bricks and grass.
-- Chrissa
I know the man in the moon, he rents the apartment on the third floor.
Far corner, to the left. See him in the laundry room some nights.
There's a woman who keeps a rabbit--no pets allowed, but we don't notice.
She's on the first floor but you can see the fur gleaming in the window
Nights when the moon's doing his laundry.
There's a woman who wears those crochet dresses, you know the ones?
Like we're all watching a heavy square TV in our grandparents' house.
She lives on the second floor near the stairs and I swear
Every time she walks by the pool little waves leap after her ankles.
Got enough lunar tenants that I no longer crave cheese and
I could tell you some stories about mermaids and starfish and milk.
I don't care for the silver dust that blows down that one hallway
Although I do appreciate the relief on my joints.
But the sun. It doesn't live around here.
When we're all in the pool and someone calls for us to look up
I do. We all do. There's no danger for us, no risk of blindness.
But I put my shades on. I shine because I've got all the years
And all the stars and all the friends and all the moonlight.
I'm old enough to let the sun bounce right on off.
There's a woman who keeps a rabbit--no pets allowed, but we don't notice.
She's on the first floor but you can see the fur gleaming in the window
Nights when the moon's doing his laundry.
There's a woman who wears those crochet dresses, you know the ones?
Like we're all watching a heavy square TV in our grandparents' house.
She lives on the second floor near the stairs and I swear
Every time she walks by the pool little waves leap after her ankles.
Got enough lunar tenants that I no longer crave cheese and
I could tell you some stories about mermaids and starfish and milk.
I don't care for the silver dust that blows down that one hallway
Although I do appreciate the relief on my joints.
But the sun. It doesn't live around here.
When we're all in the pool and someone calls for us to look up
I do. We all do. There's no danger for us, no risk of blindness.
But I put my shades on. I shine because I've got all the years
And all the stars and all the friends and all the moonlight.
I'm old enough to let the sun bounce right on off.
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