Levi’s Blues

The soft blue of a midday sky
blowing hot over golden corn.

.                           .— Or indigo
(formal, crisp, new),
deep as starlit night.

Shallow I may be,
but I’ve looked everywhere
between
that sky
and those stars
for the manufactured perfection
only Levi knows.

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Rainbow Theory

My heart races. Quick to anger, I stop and breathe in the moment – just one moment, mine – try to taste the sweetness in the calm I’m reaching for.

That moment is elusive.

It hides in a rain drop, in a sun ray.

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Just one way I was inspired this week by the Yeah Write prompt.

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Bittersweet

Wagon-red memories of childhood trundle down ore-rich earthen paths, disappearing in clouds of what was, leaving wisps of dreams and clips of songs to fade on the summer wind.

I could still be that girl in the wagon, lemonade sparkling in sunlight.
 

 

I thought I heard you call my name

Curtains billow, stirring the room’s stagnant molecules, dissipating flower perfume, caressing skin. Perched on the windowsill, I gaze out at the rushing river, watching the happy, hazy stars twirling across its surface. Dizzily, they spin in time with my heart’s own ecstasy.

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