I got up from meditating and three poems popped out. 1,2,3 – just like that. This would be nothing to write about except that yesterday I would have said, “I never write poetry.” So much for that. Last week’s Wednesday Words must have joggled something. It’s pretty scary pushing “publish” on these. Be kind.
No longer green, just one leaf, falling. A blazing announcement The End Is Near!
Me? I’m going down like a maple leaf. No polite decline, no withering on the vine. First pinky, then thumb, detach. Open-fisted every color exposed. Feast your eyes.
My dear, before I knew it you were letting go suddenly more beautiful because of it. Then the breeze took you. Does nothing last?
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