Future anthropologists finding writing specimens of this anthropocentric age will sift through acts of love mingled with words of rage

for #mastoprompt

They say today's been temporarily delayed -

Morning's still drowsy and Night's slipped away -

We wait in pause, thinking of play

then whisper appreciation as Sun spins our way

for #mastoprompt

Pausing near water’s edge - pencil in hand notebook in lap - waiting on an inspiration

The song of morning tides pulls me in, something sings: an oceans-worth of stimulation

For #mastoprompt

The scene lingers longer in the writing, a remembering -

in the shadowed eaves between angled pines on that September day;

the way we let the quiet in, the trees just listening

the kiss, only moments away

For #mastoprompt

Try to sweep your lies and deceptions under the rug, if you must

But the debris of chattering nonsense, tiny grains of chaos, sown and scattered, lingers like dust

For #mastoprompt

Sand stones edged in brush strokes and brick textures used as surface canvas -

Street murals on corner store walls capture an essence of life as art within the uneven story of the street

Pedestrian audiences wander the galleries, some barely aware, immersed in color, design and voice

For #mastoprompt

E tched in strummed sound A nd pulled from the universe D riven by pick and pluck and G lorious, the muse it seeks - B ut let’s not forget how E ach guitar sings itself unique

For #mastoprompt

The drummer counts off the beat as if on cue - a-one and a-two - to set the rhythmic kick of the street corner crew launching loudly into the joyful opening notes, as we dance along, all of us, to the Basin Street Blues

For #mastoprompt

Stars as brightened ink, dipped through night sky, then brushed across a moon-shadowed expandable canvas, each one a story etched into memory as constellation

for #mastoprompt

Littered in among the battlefield of ideas, the kernels of truth sit like seeds, waiting for moments to bloom

for #mastoprompt