the morning breaks calm
pale blue and gold skies, a bird
sings in the new year
January 1 2022
the morning breaks calm
pale blue and gold skies, a bird
sings in the new year
January 1 2022
last day of the year
a glimmer of bright sunshine
brings a little cheer
the recumbent cat
warms his feet on my belly
unsuccessful hunt
a spilt flask of tea
a whole library awash
a digital swamp
a long journey home
a flask spilt into my bag
my kindle drowning
I am a spider
swinging on gossamer thread
caught in transition
a winter morning
watching the clouds rolling-in
infinite patterns
sea grass whispering
a scattering of seashells
damp sand underfoot
a sliver of light
after a week of thick fog
a pulse quickening
rising with moonbeams
playing on dream-rumpled sheets
wakened by an owl
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
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Ellen Grace Olinger