RSS Feed

Bargain Hunter

The huge copper vase,
a gift I didn’t know how to fill,
now holds roadside treasure from yesterday’s walk—
Milkweed pods, dried goldenrod, other
brown and lacy weeds I can’t name.

I shopped for ways to fill it
but every possibility
was too expensive plus
covered in glitter spray.

When all the time,
during my hours in fluorescent malls,
the world was offering itself
to every passerby, beautiful and shouting
Take me home, till somebody heard.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

The Sketchbook


Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: