Making today's intro fast and getting right to the poetry because: 1) no time 2) too many stupid people and I "just can't even" 3) I actually HAD a post for yesterday, but technology wasn't complying (read as: I couldn't figure out how to copy and paste from my phone notes into here) 4) all of the above.
So, yeah, the first two-fer of the yearly challenge!!!
The skeleton limbs of the hawthorn
nearly naked in the cold glow of a winter sun
stand sentry over the silent gardens
that await the coming spring.
Red berries on the tips,
like claws drenched in the blood of autumn past,
reminders of the life that sits just beneath the surface,
biding its time until the the spring rains.
Friends, not enemies, each bringing hope to the other,
Seasons in congress, ever aware of one another,
of the secret vibrancy that lurks just out of reach.
Resume`
The hands tell a story:
a sliver here, a slip of the chisel there,
a scrape of a knuckle because that screw was simply too difficult to reach
and my hand was too big.
Here was the place the padauk was stuck - it's poisonous if allowed into the bloodstream -
like cocobolo dust - a carcinogen.
This was from that earring hanger,
that, from a nightstand,
And that spot under the nail that's slowly moving forward -
a hammer slip courtesy of the coffee table.
So many little things,
most of them, gifts
that give back to me permanent memories,
worn on my hands.
Thanks for reading!!
The Fat Kid
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