Embedded unseen
as butter in a cupcake
are some traditions
Deep
Tag: reality
Building on
A stack of storeys
building one upon other
unwitting child’s dreams
Kicking around
From one to another
passing from hand to hand
an ideal that's oh so shiny
that everyone wants to see
to hold, caress, inflict upon
opinions and convictions
with the dirt in their feet
making a plaything of reality
leaving their mark on it
before passing to another
spreading it as wildfire
to fellow playmates—shrewd
and dirt-smeared as they
a game of shameless soccer
politics—dividing the world
Image source: Unsplash
Ahoy!
Stuffed to the brim, drenched
the sailing folk, like canned beans,
sprawling seeing land
The new child
He listened as the midwife crooned words of encouragement. It was as if she was calming him instead, while his darling, moaning and shuffling about in gentle motions, braved on.
She was in pain, he could tell, but she’d given birth before. And she was managing far better than he had the previous four times put together.
About ten heavy breathing and a couple more shrieky minutes later, out plopped his new baby. With buttery legs, a mild mane, and eyes battling against the afternoon sun, his fifth treasure—the one that completed his farm—the jet black calf lay on the warm hay.
