Marissa Mullins
These desolate days
of wasted space when
time becomes
the movement of water —
droplets raining
from unfrozen snow
lounging on the roof.
Tree branches leap
from frigid cover —
undulating from confines
to seek the sharp winter
sun. Beacon of time
that shines crystal clear
on this day as meaningless
as the thousand days before.
Originally appeared in CCEQ, Winter 2001 issue.
Hello, how are you?
Simply want to check out on you and offer you our greatest appreciation for your support to potluck poetry. You rock!
Reminder: week 18 Theme: Languages, Signs and Symbols
The more you share, the happier we are. Plan ahead and have your entry poem. We are open Sunday 8pm, American Central time, linking in early would benefit your work with more encouragements.
Hope to see you on Sunday at: http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/
Let me know via email if you have questions or doubts.
Again, we treasure your participation and would be great to see you again on week 18.
LikeLike
when time becomes the movement of water … such lines that you write, memorable!
LikeLike
Thank you! But, I sort of “cheated” on this post as it was a poem written years ago! 🙂 Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day!
Blessings, Marissa
LikeLike
I am amazed that you are able to come up with such good writing everday!! How do you do that? This is a good one too. I like it.
LikeLike
Small Pieces of Being 
Leave a comment