Firefly weeks
This month in my mind is a darkened field.
Silent signals flaring like memories coming
By mistake from the wrong direction,
from the future, then guttering out.
This month in my mind is a darkened field.
Silent signals flaring like memories coming
By mistake from the wrong direction,
from the future, then guttering out.
Love this nutshell poem!
Thanks Lynne. As sometimes happens, I wrote 12-16 lines, looked it over, and decided that those four lines got much bigger when not crowded.
Isn’t that the truth sometimes! And such a lesson in restraint! Along with the poem, the description of your writing process is something I’ll remember (“those four lines got much bigger when not crowded”) – wonderfully said.