memories of blue
skies, and butterflies, the one
lighting on his arm
memories of blue
skies, and butterflies, the one
lighting on his arm
tracing the shadows
suffused dawn light creeps across
our watchful faces
after the heat, rain
misty-soft in pearl-grey light
gentle on the eyes
a loud bump below
a shout, hey no-one is hurt,
passing on the lane
our cats still asleep
in a bed of pink flowers
camping out in style
the heat continues
in the forest’s deep shadows
even the earth sweats
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
feels like a fresh start
cleaning the house for summer
washing on the line
through an open door
a duck leads her ducklings to
the refectory
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