my hiding place
stood silent
I climbed up
sat in the fork of two limbs
reached for blue sky
in our old oak tree
a purple cover
adorned with sisters
vivid sunlight through branches
wind honeysuckle sweet
a sparrow alights up high
she sings to me
Jo high in her garret
me on a leafy perch
an apple each and some ink
a jumble of words
tears on the page
wondering just how things will be
Mimosa
14 hours ago
2 comments:
it is all a matter of wonder...
Oh, yes, I often thought of Jo when I was up in my treehouse, too. That's a piece of synchronicity. So glad you're writing these poems!
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