Do Little

A spider is making it’s way,
Across the speckled white ceiling toward the Orchid,
That probably doesn’t get enough light to bloom.
Or perhaps away from the stinkbug on the windowsill.
So much life in the quiet evening room!
How could I ever be lonely,
Learning to talk with You?

 
0
Kudos
 
0
Kudos

Now read this

The Itinerant Elder

I go from house to house With stained index cards Detailing My mother’s, mothers’ recipes in a plain wooden box. With a Sunflower, my cousin pasted, on the front. Fruits for all pantries and appetites. You don’t need to go to the store... Continue →