Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Flutter – April 29, 2021
We fly, we dance, we live.
We are fleeting, our beauty remembered.
There is double power in reflection.
If you see us hovering over water
Make a wish, it will come true.
Foolish thought, you’re thinking.
How do you suppose I became this way?
My wish was to fly.
Here I am in blue splendour.
Before my time is up, I will wish again
To be as I was, with a life of a butterfly remembered…
© Anita Dawes 2021
The land melting, sliding over
Like a waterfall
A small mill paddling backwards
Trying to maintain a grip on steady land
Like so many of us who have paddled backwards
Trying to retrieve our steps
To right some wrong, in order to do better.
When paddling forward
It seems to me, the world is paddling backwards
Soon it will go full cycle
With any luck, we will meet ourselves
We can then paddle forwards
Avoiding waterfalls…
© Anita Dawes 2021
A non-eventful week, but instead of worrying about the lack of progress, I have been counting my blessings. And despite the lack of evidence, I did find quite a few!
Top of the list: Work on the WIP has finally begun, and that alone has made my heart sing.
I have started knitting again. Nothing like a new great grandchild to get me reaching for a ball of wool and it is a great way to relax in the evenings!
The garden has been my greatest blessing. Everything is waking up, reminding me that life does go on, no matter what, so thought I would share some of the best bits!
Hope you all enjoyed the walk around my blossoming jungle…
Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Dance – April 22, 2021
My soul, lost inside a rainbow world
I dance. My body sways, bends, stretches
Inside a penny gobstopper
I am a mass of energy
My mind screaming to be set free
Let me dance where there can see
Let me bring the colours with me
Let me turn the gobstopper inside out
My hair flying behind me
My body contorted by muscle memory
I cannot stop until they can see…
© Anita Dawes 2021
There it is, that flicker across my mind
A butterfly walking, a tiny arm crawling
Looking for that thought I lost.
The pressure of a late snowdrift
In the middle of Spring
I am on my knees in front of the hearth.
Ashes to ashes.
There it is that lost thought.
I let it fly by, not needed now.
There she goes, my black and white cat.
On the prowl, under dark night design
Through my window, I could see a large fox
hear my father’s voice.
“There’s no need to panic, keep your powder dry.”
Dear old dad, dare I say, thoughts of him come back
Like a virus that needs a yearly jab…
© Anita Dawes 2021
