The heat hums and beats the ducts;
a percussion of dying things.
Six AM cloaks the world in dark,
All Hallows Eve just past.
I went to bed in ashes
and woke risen again from flame.
Just like every morning
I arise.
Small Stones are a mindfulness writing practice, which you can read about here.
I'm glad you do Tara, keep on rising.
ReplyDeleteYou're one amazing phoenix.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous, Tara. Here's to rising again and again!
ReplyDelete