Seeing a rose, I once said that we stand out like that, red on green, and you reply, tongue-in-cheek, you mean like an ambulance at 3 AM in a Mississippi swamp and I shut up, crushed, like you’d said we were an accident that had been waiting to happen, as if crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end, just a screeching of brakes, a clang of metal, the jolting of bones, and then the long drawn out police report and insurance claims, a ledger of rights and wrongs, and the spindrift pages in the moonlit night where my heart spills and the nightingale vies with a shrike impaled on a thorny bush that ought to have a bloom, a rose, while someone, no one, looks for a medic to resuscitate the dead in an ambulance at 3 AM.
For Cee's FOTD
and dVerse's Prosery where Merril asks us to use a line from a Jo Harjo poem, “Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end,” to write a 144-word piece of prose. Click on Mr. Linky and join in!
I’ve dotted my ‘i’s and crossed my ‘t’s restless for a spot of afternoon tea in my garden retreat
Disclaimer: This photo’s from my neighbor’s garden. So many of my neighbors are dedicated gardeners and it’s a pleasure to admire their lovely gardens on my walks. I have no garden, but a lovely balcony.It’s good for a spot of tea too!
For Cee’s Flower of the Day challenge: “Don’t forget that my FOTD challenge accepts leaves and berries as well as flowers.“ And Sammi’s 19-words-only challenge using “restless.”
Maybe it’s just that the camera angle caught it just right, but these viburnum leaves seem to form a perfect cross and mid-center, flowering buds. Can our daily crosses be thus, as roads to the heart of hope realized and yet to be realized? I suppose it’s all in where we place our faith, or rather in whom, the One who bore a cross for us and walks the cross-roads with us.