Unhurried
Harvest of Memory challenge

evening comes early but my days are long
for I wear this chronic slowness
like the boredom of childhood summers
heavy with the chore of finding our own pastimes
drenched with the exertion of impossibilities
cast into the cool grass to stare into a dense sky
-
back then success was captured
in photographs like ghost towns -
the present buffered with agility and stamina -
now attired in a different body
I retire the facades of past adventure
to gather ornaments of sentiment for my own pleasure
-
here is the sweet weight that warms the hands
and melts away the dreams
Italian roast in a thick mug - I drink it like a child
softening daybreak with milk-fat and sugar
-
later I choose the earthy taste of life
leached from a pinch of dry leaves in a ceramic pot
the tart heat of honey and half-lemon
-
I collect the afternoon butterflies of sunlight
cast by glass raindrops when the sun floats low
skimming the tips of cold trees
rolling the cat about on the kitchen floor
dipping the ends of his fur in patches of bright tint
-
I save, too, the comfort of geometry -
assembled by friendships as old as my very bones -
and spread well-being across my lap
-
in the silence of the early hours
when I sense my careful turning -
take inventory of the small dog snug in his place
and that sun-drenched kitty at my side -
then I let the glow of yesterday slip into the darkness -
anticipate the gift of my awakening
About the Creator
Martina Franklin Poole
I was born a poet and artist, a descendant of men and women whose journals and sketchbooks mapped out the foundations of my being. This is my voice.
www.martinafranklinpoole.com


Comments (1)
Wooohooooo congratulations on your honourable mention! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊