Tossing Pennies

Poetry prosing plucking, little thoughts out of the darkness…

Walking as I sit, on the riverbed of memory… There is a steady slow trickle of rain water,

The moment is perfect.

Perhaps there are no stars tonight, but I can shine myself into the nothing. A complete emptiness, so profound the merest breath of wind creates a tempest in my head… Like a butterfly in China creating tidal waves…

Or something like that.

A sharp exhale, and the soft ‘plunk’ of a penny dropping, dropping… Splash.

There is a pattern to be found here, like the revolution of clock hands doing their thing.

Tap. Is a booted foot on a warm rock, and “Quip?” says the bird who watches, waiting for a poem, “Quip?”

Sure, okay…

A small space for the heart to curl up in, tucked between warm moss and hard edges.

Taking a moment, just a moment, to…

Be here, at the river.

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3 thoughts on “Tossing Pennies

  1. lumpia2

    Ah found it! looks like I have already commented though.

    Your writing is really growing on me. I think hearing it read aloud makes a really huge difference.

    You should go on tour!

    Like

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