butterflies dance while
wrens flit ’round a dripping tap
vying for a sip
butterflies dance while
wrens flit ’round a dripping tap
vying for a sip
helped out of the sink
a strip of toilet tissue
climb little spider
spider in the bath
on steep sides, long legs sliding
forever downwards
a few drops of rain
outside I remain seated
letting thoughts refresh
feels like a fresh start
cleaning the house for summer
washing on the line
one dark cloud lingers
in blue skies above the house
casts a long shadow
three little ducklings
our meeting interrupted
we scatter some crumbs
through an open door
a duck leads her ducklings to
the refectory
building river art
from our fathers’ heritage
grinding-stones and bricks
a man in waders
builds sculptures in stone and brick
a river appeased
I dream so I write ..
“Wings are an illusive notion. Some may possess them, but they are not very visible, and as for me, there isn’t the least sign of a feather.” -Amy Carmichael
New Ideas, New Forms
Musings from an insignificant writer
14 hectares of thrills, spills and fun!
A Journal of Poetic Observations
Pictures and Poetry, Picture Poetry
My Journey on the Lonely Road to Deaf Acceptance
Ellen Grace Olinger