It’s a storm brewing a good distance away, hit or pass me questions,
perfectness of June moons, the chaos of a dark December storm.
Some vision roughly sketched, a shaky installation, chance daubs of concentration,
over-anticipation, a somnambulist awakened.
All this invoked by a siren’s rush,
sounding dimly like a love story coming on, a vague
nose lifting to the freshening wind, breezy tongue lolling,
saliva drops plish a pool of posies growing hope,
loudest when the master’s right in the midst of it, splitting
the dead, fearing for the dimming of it to a dot of distant silence, the odds
of it returning in favor most of merely bearing the bodies, the quiet
now only burdening the asphalt with their unstraining.
That’s what it’s like, being blind to the strobing difference,
wagging back then at darkness switch light switch darkness.
* * * * *
Aloha #WriterSunday. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, then post that piece on your site and link back to me, or leave it a a comment below. I would love to read it : )