How to Bend a Spoon
somehow
her younger self still knows —
step back into her shadow.
“the apples will be abundant this year,” she says,
changing the subject.
“ripe before autumn.”
she watches the sun drink from a puddle,
summer not quite here.
“you’re not special,” he says.
“such foolishness.
doula-foola.
nonsense —
humming to a fallen bird,
as if it hears you.”
a crow,
two magpies on the fence,
coincidence
maybe
that they’re watching.
the magpies chatter.
the crow, in its own way,
an old friend.
one after another,
they would deny it too.
still,
she will not leave them
without a word.
Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: harvest. Not all images are created using Midjourney, but all writing is my own original work. ©Misky 2006-2026.
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