writers life – The Poetry Patio

Morning Song

This morning a song is happening. . . .

ridiculous: the difference
from aquatic birth to
solid earth, so far north
to deepest south
espresso sings: hand to mouth

Floating in my cup of tea:
the bric-a-brac chunk leftovers
from the small scoop of flavorful dust
I stirred in, along with honey. . . .

. . . . realize that I am late. I am going to need more time, at least a week. After that, I will be back and set it all right.”. . . .

Let’s talk inspiration: as in I am in serious need of some. Over the summer I drew back into my shell like a hermit crab and kept to myself. . . . .