Emily Withenbury suggested a cento for this last day–with a twist–the lines come from our own poetry from this month. My thirty lines . . . (title is one of them).

my mind paints life-scapes–
i brush on their colors, soft,
smear sagey hue on canvas,
listen to sage whispers
dance against white blooms.
a nugget of life’s meaning,
penciling color onto black and white
i hear, let color flow over you–
yes, the yellow of sunflowers.

then daybreak observations
shout, we elegant dance.
kentucky speaks from very near–
a look and feel and smile
enjoying stillness under colorful masses
with soft breezes, rich colors, callings–
i break free, in garden
play at new play, rural peace,
consider the steady measure of day.

in dim moonlight, i see deer leap,
girl swing from oak branch. she smiles, laughs.
through new days, forever gifts of magic,
i live vicariously via songs
among butterfly wings
who whisper i’m cool, too
and echos of triumphant trumpets
satisfy for now, reasons to be still,
and i breathe in a ton of love.

in poetry, in hope,
i bid all an adieu. for now.