NaPoWriMo. On This Day. (Prosery. 8 April, 2014)

This life?
This blustery calm circus of vibrant color and
deepest freewheeling emotion?

This wild Bossa Nova in 3-6-5 tempos of
random kindness and distempered change
punctuated by groaner punchlines
whose menus never serve the same fare

This life
where invisible wisdoms and sweeping
awkward gestures of sweetest affection
hold our hearts in most tender esteem
and optimism.
This life

in which shards of the past become mosaics
rare ingredient prime
fashioning today, and possibly tomorrow
nestled in the mortar of Yes and Thank You.
Where threads of conversations button us long
into the dreams of our grandparents
and our beckoning
grandchildren seeds on the spring breeze.
This life

is really its own
sort of
perfect. We
will waltz
and wade
along the wanderer’s way
together, if we have
not all ready begun
…which, of course, on course,
we have.



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