photo by Charley
Newly hatched
plot. Freed,
sprung
from the surface of living
day to day, we (dragon)fly
our joy, each circling
the other. Cherish
each loop,
climb,
dive.
Short-lived
for now. A lifespan of mindful bliss.
* * *
Next to irony — enjambment!
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Five thirty-six.
Afternoon.
March twenty-seven
(on Good Friday)
nineteen sixty-four.
Unloading Spring’s first ships –
children, men, dogs watching.
Plug pulled.
Nine-point-two quake.
Valdez Harbor emptied.
Refilled.
Tsunami flood
to tune of sixty-seven meters.
One hundred thirty-nine perished.
Ring of Fire.
Tectonics, y’all!
Shift happens.
* * *
It’s Quadrille Night at dVerse Poets Pub. The magic word is “Harbor.” …I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind when I saw the prompt.
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While I continue
to move
I do not grieve
what of me has died.
The motion of life keeps
me from gathering
dust; from returning
to dust.
My thought
is to completely burn –
a match not safe to hold.
Forty-four. Just forty-four!
Hyphenated words count as one;
I looked it up. (Forty-four!)
Forty-four; got to keep that in my head.
Forty-four… although word count helps.
I used to spell it “Fourty-four”
when I was a kid. Forty-four.
Count them up quick… er, quickly!
* * *
It’s another Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub! What’s a quadrille? A poem of only… um, lessee… I used to know this. Anyway, c’mon over and help tally ’em up!
Life in Portofino 