…
We are born of
plague and will
and blasphemy,
song and sigh.
We are water
turned to wine
and other small
miracles,
sweet and dry.
We tear ourselves from
paper,
…….(scissors)
rock,
then long for whole.
We wind ourselves like
monkeys, keep the change
and lose it
all.
We’re rustling
in these amber leaves,
all hands
on deck.
We’ve wasted
one two many days,
but we’ve lost
track.
….
Wordled.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
“We tear ourselves from
paper,
…….(scissors)
rock,
then long for whole. (y)”
Ooh, I just made “scissor sigh.”
Love:
“We’re rustling
in these amber leaves”
Clever with the sweet and dry, referring to people and wine. (And always the hidden “whine.”)
I so much appreciate the thought that I, even I, might actually be water turned to wine! Thank you!
Another Baja Whirl