Such deep golden hues, but never a surprise, the way morning dew sleeps in your eyes

for #mastoprompt

In winter, we walked the ice-lined sands, the ocean still crashing, always crashing, even in frigid dreams of such bitter winds,

our words hanging like a sun setting over the emptiness of waters, of places where memories might still begin

for #mastoprompt

Around the next bend in this river where we send giant blue herons flying,

I’m trying to remain quiet – each paddle, a silent eddy of motion and swirl –

savoring the possibility of a moment of tranquility,

a quiet repose, afloat in an otherwise noisy

world

for #mastoprompt

A Monster drink gives you a kick, but makes you think: Why am I energized but feeling so sick?

for #mastoprompt

I’m only audience, watching the violinist seize the note - an avant-garde-ian who wrings it, hard, without a word, spoke – and I swear, we float, somehow adrift between the place she is, and the place I am, until a tender silence between us, broke

for #mastoprompt

If you were a magic penny – and I, the magic well - I’d catch you in a tumbling wish; oh, the fortunes, we might tell

for #mastoprompt

What sounds like the breaking into pieces of the sky, and why is it this kind of thunder acts as an anticipatory rhythm of lightning, the dividing line drawn between the world of words of you and I?

for #mastoprompt

A soft light, dappled bright and brazen golden

the falling sun, at dusk; tumbles, rarely beholden

for #mastoprompt

A memory unfolding off the corner of the lips –

a smile, unveiled, in the eyes, and then slips

for #mastoprompt

A spark

a small light in the dark

a sudden mark scratched in secret writing

a part of us, the poet in us, who’s always hiding

for #mastoprompt