Balanced on the edge of being both here and there, day replaces night
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Balanced on the edge of being both here and there, day replaces night
Broken words – angled as an avalanche – always there, barely spoken
Sometimes, through windows, the world paints a strange portrait of imperfection
for Algot
Night, wanders my mind, the way songs play, we might find two bright stars, dancing
All these forgotten seeds; sprouts just now waking up, waving to the sun
Revel in silence between yesterday and night, dance the fading light
Stretching, unfolding; the Fiddlehead yawns, unrolls its way into day
Light snow, covering green flower buds peeking up from winter's cold earth
There are no gods, but not everyone is cursed every moment
from You're The Top by Ellen Bass https://poets.org/poem/youre-top?mc_cid=bef9ba6dce&mc_eid=ed9c8bae96
Some pillars remain empty of devotion, blank screens on which we scribe our fears
But I miss the stories, even the ones where all falls apart on the whims of just a few
I miss our Gods
In Spring's evening, the sun settles in to nap; languid laziness