Tagged: treasure

in every treasure

the random knick-knacks

the random knick-knacks
we inherit are more or
less meaningless – we

keep them around as an after-
afterthought, collecting meaning
.
20220207:1956
y

at the greenmarket,

at the greenmarket,
a bouquet of crimson clover
in exchange for a

pretty penny. at home, a
field of red clover laughing
.
20210515:2039
y

because we can stave

because we can stave
off hunger for much longer,
treasure these moments

when we are together, stow
them away for a rainy day
.
20201223:1553
y

under the same sun,

under the same sun,
one man’s trash is another
man’s treasure, merely

teetering on the sharpened
tip of circumstance, edge of wealth
.
20180605:0703
y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: teeter

there will always be

there will always be
new old recipes masking
as old new, handed-

down-through-the-generations
delights, i won’t tell if you won’t
.
20171119:1713
y

perhaps words are our

perhaps words are our
very first
spices, nestled
on our tongues
like lost and
found
treasures, waiting
to stir
one another’s
pots of
thoughts and
lived experiences,
make little
explosions,
calm unnerved
nerves
.
20161127:1111
y

in a parallel

in a parallel
universe, it is still the
weekend, and because
we live comfortably
and are doing something
as normal as holding
a garage sale,
we are worried
about the color
of our skin
over the
commonality
of sharing
perceived treasures
.
20160910:0715
y

after a couple of go-arounds

after a couple of go-arounds
admittedly, you know the
apocalyptic routine. it’s
pretty much the norm –
settle your debts, treat
every minute like an
ornament, and love,
love, love
.
20121221:2045
y

it takes six tweezers, three

it takes six tweezers, three
screwdrivers, two bottles of
glue, one good wire snip,
a spool of longing, a bouquet
of drill bits, needles, and pins,
an anchor of kisses, and twelve
years to carve this wonder, hold
taut confusion, wrap joy
close, fold breathlessness
for two beats
before raising the masts
of those early days
waking up new
and near,
unfurling the sails of
an eternal spring
in a bottle
for the long journeys away
from you, my home
.
20121211:1326
y

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