Staring into 3 swirling eights
A gift deposited on my stair
A large heavy punch bowl full of sparkling crystals
Mined from rivers
The last day of the month of June
People’s got a bit of a lonesome vibe, tonight
But it is an excellent thing at times
to be an island
a chef who loves toast
Atlas, as a jar
Local and raw
Blooms of Spring
fair trade cacao
Some imagined echoes of Goth music
That thing the light does in the evening,
particularly in the kitchen
Or that moment when the leaves all pop just so much more noticeably after the summer sun
and humidity
“There’s a lot of money in meat sticks”
I said as she turned.
“Bubble!! Soap bubble’s still there.”
and so it was, tiny
hovering in one place
looking as if it were never to move.
3 thoughts on "Staring into 3 swirling eights"
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Love:
That thing the light does in the evening,
3 swirling eights, that was the 888th Octordle. What a monumentous occasion that somehow coincided with the end of poetry month. Wish I’d expanded on that symbol, a little
So lovely to live this with you! Thank you for writing something so beautiful. I can redigest this day over and over