I love you, my Darling, like a turnip, buried ‘neath the loamy soil, loves its home, to force those spiny roots so with a grip does plant in place and thus refuse to roam. Spade me not, my Own, don’t disturb the weeds, this tap runs deep and on its course unswerves to wrap about thine heart it doth proceed to hold and love you with exalted verve! Unhoed, this great attachment holds the soil to fertilize your joy with stewed delight, let not this soup turn thoughts to some embroil, take stock and stir as my be-tubered knight To love me more and radish all my doubt so water here our ground to save from drought.
The highway battered the air my ears yesterday morning two miles became two meters howling cycles of tires deranged engines dug their fingers into the back door, pushed into the epidermis of the house I stopped up my ears hid in the closet wanting them to go away
They kept coming
Today the mercy of fog silences the screams cuts them down like a silver sickle drives them from my ears I go back to bed
A journey in the form of a Rubaiyat for dVerse’s month-long form challenge, hosted by Frank Hubeny. I have been reading Cantos by Ezra Pound, hence that opening line. A journey not meant to be understood, simply enjoyed for the sound and feel. 🙂
I reset the chess set this morning, six months it sat mute in the upstairs office, sent there to avoid weddings, parties of summer, autumn, cold stone accusations I ignored each night passing the door switching off lights
I gathered the pieces set them in crowds in the center of the board, minglers at a cocktail party clusters of soldiers, royalty and clerics, as though they have something to talk about over champagne and cold fish
I reset them this morning, lines facing ready for battle wondering if I remember my first move while spring threatens to approach
All I ask is that you lick your phone less and maybe use your hands to play childish string games cradling cats here’s the church here’s the steeple instead of building barriers of one-handed pepperoni pizza and stiff cold-jointed bones to worship, worship, worship
De is hosting the Quadrille at dVerse this week; come and raise a toast with us as we enter a season of cheer!
It occurs to me that Phoebe and the Buffleheads would be a great name for a rock band, but in reality, these are two of the birds that winter here in Central Florida. It is a seasonal milestone when each of these species arrive; one for which there is much rejoicing in the land 🙂