Letters jostle for position back-up attempt to regroup get detoured Frustration builds and obstacles pop-up – cognition faltering Circuits are jumbled pathways rerouting patience exploding expression
Gossamer that thread, that sparkle, that vestige of my youth I try to hold on, gnarly grip no match for her exuberance Hope we reunite
Did she know, setting the empty bottles on the stoop, or later, reading the daily while sipping first morning tea? Did she have an inclining
Must have been the heat – lazy August sun reaching through Willow sway – or maybe the laughter bubbling up from brook – had me
Late August nights cool burnt dry hues will soon transform – symphony of colour There is sorrow in Summer’s end; Autumn’s icy breath Winter’s warning.
Idleness is not a ploy asserted by the river, her banks, ever vital, project confidence – life’s continuum Her waters, sturdy, fluctuating, tame the deepest