Cantilever
1
Night skitters over the mounds,
avoiding the blue flowers
She bears the horizon’s gold.
2
No one stands alone.
Our sky is of earth, dark
soil packed with the living.
3
I do not seek mercy.
The cliff frog chirps its song
and the fog closes in.
4
Suspended, hope
wraps around her,
one foot on the ground.
O at the Edges 
Wonderful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Nadine!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Our sky is of earth, dark
soil packed with the living”
That image struck me. Beautiful piece.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Craig. I’m so pleased it struck you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are a master of the unexpected image/sound!
LikeLiked by 2 people
High praise, Craig. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jilanne!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the mystery and succinctness of this!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Lynne. My days have been full of mystery lately…
LikeLiked by 1 person
there was a lot of fog this morning which was unusal the past few weeks! lovely words
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so pleased it resonated with you. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A museum of verbal textures and imagery as always Bob. Love it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My days are full of texture! š
LikeLike
This…”No one stands alone.
Our sky is of earth, dark
soil packed with the living.”
This touched my day leaving me with a new sense of connection.
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so pleased it connected, Ali. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person