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curled together with heads bent and legs tucked like pretzels we share dreams to greet the day I envision us as an egg he asks how my belly opens because he wants to return there "for 100 years" and I find it hard to accept either as impossible ©Erin Croley
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I don't know the stages of dementia but today's blend of current reality with high school, where some of us are occasionally lost and she is happy, seems better than yesterday's tears and anger at knowing it was going to happen. ©Erin Croley (from a #WordStew prompt) rare morning
she wakes and seeks her daddy's lap and I get to listen to their whispered words a love story of endless questions ©Erin Croley droplets suspended
surround encapsulate light struggles with the opaqueness emerges a filtered haze but cannot penetrate the quiet and the falling of fog ©Erin Croley (from a #MadVerse prompt) the mythology
of a warrior is full of conditions, but the only one that is necessary is love ©Erin Croley (from an #ntitle prompt) they say each day is never the same
these gray skies and wet tabletops make it difficult to distinguish but this beautifully-fat wren-like bird suddenly appears from the center of an evergreen shrub jumps to balance on the tip of a branch and I remember the earth is in motion ©Erin Croley the sky is flat
unbaked clay, still dusty waiting to take a breath morning yawns and stretches repeated chirp the simple pattern of a heartbeat rises above other awakenings even as it fades over time and distance a hawk's piercing call slices through seems a moment of clarity but it silenced the birdsong and left a wake of confusion slowly retuning its peaceful cacophony a horizontal sliver cracks the gray blue glazed hints promises of brilliance ©Erin Croley (from #MadVerse, #Magick_Words & #MSpoetry prompts) you reach out
to settle into the quiet hours refocus and let go while I look within to reclaim fragments and dream of gluing ©Erin Croley (from a #fieryverse prompt) wind chimes compete
with morning birds and words to rise from the background focus day as it did night to the story of the wind distant pine boughs rise and sway settle and then attempt again to take flight encouraged by forgotten fall leaves hopeful stowaways, swirling the faint glow of sun rising has been replaced blue-tinged haze ushered in by constant bursts of wind and parallel birdsong crescendos ©Erin Croley let's kick off our muck boots
prep spring gardens barefoot leave muddy footprints on the retaining wall, and laugh like new sprouts rising ©Erin Croley (from a #HeartSoup prompt) |
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