Autumn Lake

Perched with pretzel legs

   Her favorite earthen cup by her side,
   She’s embraced by her lover’s sweater.

A gold beam grazes the top of the birch trees.
   Glitter dances its way across the water,

   To kiss the top of her head.

A slow, deep drum–
   A funeral dirge.
   No one has died;

   But everyone is gone.

Labrador’s tongue            laps;

   An insatiable thirst.

Crisp dollar bills hang on the breeze–

   Some fall and tumble,

   Rolling like distant applause

A teakettle fretting.

A dumpling dropping into soup.

Cotton sheets snap in the wind.

A wooden rocker softly whimpers,

   Slow and steady–

   It’s joints aching.

A poetry style that does not define what is envisioned but offers descriptions of the sounds.
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33 1/3

It’s not a melody that soothes my soul.A chorus of four words.Repeating. Skip.Repeat. Skip.Repeat. The volume gets louder.The four words echo. Skip.Repeat. The acoustics are horrible.No softness to absorb the sound    That came from the speaker.The sound reverberates on calloused walls.Hardened.Unforgiving. Skip.Repeat. Skip.Repeat. The door did not slam.The needle did not scrape across the vinyl.The […]

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She’s Back

A short paragraph from my observation journal for Creative Writing. last year when I started continuing ed classes. Feeling the same as I start again this semester. New direction; new anxieties. The first Creative Writing class– I am anxious, excited, and encouraged. The students are diverse, which I appreciate very much. Many years ago, coming […]

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