A Play of Dust and Years
the tapestry of my life precise shapes sparkle in the lightness of memory
scratch the surface a tiny bee with sticky feet
checks the pumpkin flowers the color of bricks bright orange
like the sunset birds crowd the feeder the lonely cuttlefish blinks
a distress code or just a friendly hello in the quiet of morning
danger passes on silent feet the coyote and his twin
come close to the garden wall kitten unaware of threat the shape of the day mutable
a diary entry of love remembered other times
other days shines from the page a pitcher of fresh milk sits on the table
memories flood the scene the theme the farm at the end of the dirt road
the car travels dust flies chokes the throat
burns the eyes the scene veiled dust and years
September 4, 2016
16 comments:
it's almost like a silent movie scenes glide by and fade out..& in between, that startling moment of being caught unaware...beautifully woven...
Dust and years........such dreamy imagery, I saw it all.....worried for the kitten, coyotes on the other side of the wall. But I know you watch out for him. I love the idea of "dust and years"...........
Dust and years. I like the image this conjures as well as the free flowing images you describe. Enjoyed this. Nice how you can weave all these words into something beautiful. But then, that's what you do right?
I felt pulled into both the joy and bumble bees..all excited and sticky..and then as you lead us through this beautiful tapestry how sad it is to pull away and miss so very much.. xo
Oh I do hope the kitten gets away... I really like the dust and years together... Lovely
This reminds of several things: how our daily writing is images, all stacked atop one another, pages and pages of memory, other lives lived, memories preserved. It also reminds me of that old song by Kansas..."All we are is Dust In The Wind."
Elizabeth
Yes, me, too -- the dust and years. Nicely done.
We cling to the past yet it hurts us as so much of us is back there...yet we don't want to leave our loved ones behind.
Thank you for your comments, Elizabeth.
Thank you Marilyn...we wipe the windows of the bus.
Beautifully written ❤
Thank you so much...woman of wonderful words!
Yes, we do, and you are right so much of us is "back there." It is what fills thoses bags we drag through the streets.
Makes one think - do the years become dust, or will the dust become years?
I enjoy your writing and admire your style.
ZQ
We all return to dust. Nice one, Annell. I hope all is well with you.
Pamela ox
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