on Tuesday morn
I was sour as a lemon
rational mind reached
for answers to life’s mysteries
instead of contemplating
with gladness and praise
went so far
as to tell a friend
I’m still polluting the energy sphere with lots of bad thoughts
what was that about?!
I wanted to hide under my covers…
pressed on instead
and do you know what?
as I kept going
I transformed from
sour lemon to sweet tangerine
a highlight came shortly before sleep
laughing out loud as Bella sang her version of Happy Birthday
to Ricky Baker
whoa! the muses are taking us off the rails today
let’s see if I can get them back to our original starting point
ugh!
in the still
of early morn
greeted
by thousands of
winking and blinking frosted blades
reflected moonlight
rivaled the stars
sound of train whistle
carried on dry and frigid air
would shatter into a million pieces
if dropped on the asphalt
and the smell of wood smoke
like a fleece blanket
enveloped
the scene
May your day be filled with sweet citrus dear reader.
The specs of light against the dark background? Moonlight reflecting off icy blades of grass? Somewhat akin to my LED headlamp reflected off the eyes of numerous ground spiders when I walk Izzie in the dark. Somewhat...
The remarks on the "sound of train whistle" reminded me of a very old Joni Mitchell song, Michael from Mountains, with this line: "There's oil on the puddles in taffeta patterns. That run down the drain. In colored arrangements. That Michael will change with a stick that he found."
May all your bitter lemons be this tasty!
Gail, your "in the still of early morn" poem is mesmerizing. Like Jack, my fav stanza (is that the correct term?) is the train whistle. I had to read it several times because it was so ...mesmerizing.