..
this poet is a murmured swallow,
a shallow puddle of herself,
a slow and stealthy (s)word
waiting. she’s a hack
-saw, hum
-bled haranguer of phrase,
a moon phase waning in her
own sealing wax.
trace her loose in(stead) in sand
and indigo sea, lake-lapped
lullaby and pine breeze.
phrase her softly; she’s
had her heart cracked open
more than once. she does
not often haiku
……….(God bless you),
but she weighs her syllables
care
full
y.
this poet is a stem,
sometimes a flower.
give her a minute, a day,
an hour, and she’ll play
with words until she’s spun
under a sticky cotton candy sun.
.
prompted by Quickly in November, day 5.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
NOT EVEN IN HINDSIGHT? 🙂
Oooh, I like the stop-start rhythm, the staccato and crescendo of this poem. Lovely humour to it too!
yes, that’s you! spinning & weighing your candied words
Always with your endings, de…and all the rest but I’m a sucker for a great ending!! Always awesome, my friend!