Tag Archives: indigo

The Tao of Tree Shadows

She runs, and whisper-soft, they tell her things. Secrets. The pounding of her own hooves. The bleeding of this indigo sky. The why of silence. She’s got lungs, and legs. She’s got this air and these miles. She’s got nothing … Continue reading

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penning tiny poems

in the mar -gins of life, she wells with ink and inks well. white chalk; indigo sky.   ..

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Rancid Pavement

… Our shins walk toward the water – twin divining rods, shod in skin and shadow. The sky’s a rippled trance of whisper-thin blue, push -pinned up only by wisp of cloud. Who were we before this place? This indigo … Continue reading

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Lake of the Sky

.. When you slip on ……..your cobalt best, …………..I find myself on your shore. There are small kingdoms ……..here, sandcastles of …………..my own small making. Do you see the geese ripple ……..your surface? They etch …………..a new language – I … Continue reading

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Sum Her Up Like This

.. : Some brilliant Blue, soft shirring of breeze. Shade trees. Sand. Inky fingers and salty toes. White pages, fluttering. Waiting. Birdsong. Pine. One wordsong at a time, and a million thoughts to in …-di ……..-go. .. Prompted by Miz … Continue reading

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Broken-Winged Aubade

.. See the raven, black against night’s last indigo blush, one lone smudged note waiting on a wire. The sinking moon’s an echoed ache of loss and longing; the sky’s a broken song.     .. November PAD, day 5.  … Continue reading

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Go, Ogle

… Gia walks these gemstone streets, a Gemini uncoupled. Break her open and you’ll find her elbow’s broken but her (searching) soul’s anew. She’s an ogre in indigo jeans, and she means well when she says Jell-O is the best … Continue reading

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The sailing of her heart into a wide winged sky

.. Home again, and even here the sky’s a song, a rhythm and blues tango-tangle of cloud -stitched cobalt quilt. She’s built of this, this indigo swirl, this lake sky curl that reminds her to remain liquid even here in … Continue reading

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A Meter Maid Goes Rogue

(she’s not all that fond of feet) .. The ticking of the clock is off; her feet are tired, and waning. tickTOCK, clickCLACK. Creep close, stand back. The only thing she craves is sea, a salted skin for staining. Moon … Continue reading

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Sky song for a Friday afternoon

Blue is held in heart and chest, stirred by significant breeze, contemplated by clouds. We shroud ourselves in -digo proud, believe ………………..in blur.   .. Prompted by Toads.     

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