It's Still Life

Sometimes the Sun Shines

This is not paradise – it just rained,
the humidity is on the rise, again.
An ascension. It’s not a great saviour.

I miss hummingbirds. Seagulls,
that’s all we have. A few blue tits.
Don’t forget slugs – it’s the rain, again.

Clear. Warm. Clouds of true white silk.
The beech forest is white. Rising green.
Blackbirds making music. It’s all silk.

Music is silk. It’s tattooed on my soul.
My lip twitches. Humidity on the rise.
An ascension. It’s not a great saviour.

for Miz Quickly’s Day 25 Triplets and Twiglet #132

Miz Quickly’s: First, write one three-line poem. No rhyme scheme requirement or syllable count, just a poem complete in three lines. Now, make three asterisks. Below that, write another three-line poem. This, too, should stand on its own, but try to make it physically similar to the first, and let the content in some way tie the two pieces together. Repeat. Repeat. Write at least four three-line poems. Enjoy.

Twiglet #132: “Trees Nude and White”

©️ Misky 2019