On things that have no standing
winding roads, charging winds
worlds, swallow fast,

cars, homes, cities and everything in it

pace yourself
taste the rhythms
salt-melted, gentility
galaxies of the mind

a quest beyond identity
hardened label pups
of whom nothing is for certain
a wooden plaque
scores boards and fools
heaps and heaps of untreasured rubber

blown by a nail, hammered
into place

drag, hamp, bounce
one used spare
buried against another

possibly abandon potential,
empty pursuits, burning-
pneumonia air – catch your death out there

bundle up, head in the clouds
long walks inside

gentility, the pausing mind
covers the worlds we know
softens, liquid, snow

grace renewed
sweep our prayers to God
and grace our dreams,
beleived~ kindness sis. Krissy

2 responses

  1. Jonathan Caswell Avatar

    Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
    WRITTEN WITH REAL HEART.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Maren Avatar

    Amen to this and thinking that “pneumonia air” is sometimes about winter and sometimes about cold hearts.

    Liked by 2 people

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