curling iron forge
masked motives incinerate
reach new thoughts, higher
This was my evening, days ago. I burned every stick and autumn leaf along with left over wood from long-ago projects, saved for years in the garage, for those just-in-case chances we needed a piece of 2×4. Indiana is soon to be in my rear-view mirror. Friends will be left behind. I hope Boston treats me well.
What luck! Or is it fate? My garden has been vacant and overgrown; absent of all song. Behold! answered prayers this morning. Was this what i have been hoping all along? A visit from wise counsel, dressed in feathered cloak?
I pour another cup, relish the peace he brings. I dream as he spreads his wings. “Leave a feather for me?” my only song. I will need to journey out and see…