That little sparrow zipping through the trees and brush; a familiar friend
A place to gather words before they get lost.
That little sparrow zipping through the trees and brush; a familiar friend
February sun on pavement, the thaw of ice now well underway
A composition: the music of a sunrise on a quiet day
Egg of idea, hatched in a nest, on paper; expensive as heck
Divots and canyons – street formations left behind from storms, days ago
for Algot
Rushing by, hurry - the kids are in a flurry of a wild escape
Shouting poems on air, the flock of geese barely cares if words become noise
Frozen angles and jagged geometric shape; a fallen snowflake
Inside a canvas painted white with winter ink, the Evergreens dance
You see the whole of things, Charles Wallace, while we capture only the softest of edges
It's almost as if you're invisibly threaded in connection to your sister, her thoughts in the night like starlight,
and yet, you fall silent near strangers, observant as always, always noticing the slightest twitches in the fabric of time
You might do well to learn to wear humility as a blanket, for the universe depends upon you
a poem inspired by A Wrinkle In Time
for #OpenWrite