i most love to
climb her
poetry,
to rest my bones
on its upper
branches,
i laze in a most grateful
heap/feast for
fire ants
chilled by the trill
of bare old
birds,
i watch on as one by one,
word balloons float
past an ink
run sun,
i slip and fall each
time i fail to
catch one,
++++
i love to climb
her poetry,
and do hope it holds
some affinity
for me.
Grumpy McPoem
igram: https://www.instagram.com/grumpygorman/?hl=
*Retooling of a previous poem.
And you get lost and entangled in branches and twigs and never want to come down…Despite the scratches and fear from falling.
who say’s there’s still a down when you’ve reached those heights? 😉 That’s the blinders talking! Stay well! 🙂
Down doesn’t always have to be bad. Sometimes we need to touch the bottom to be able to rise again. Otherwise, one might keep their head up in the clouds for too long 😀
(raises hand, through clouds surrounding my head) guilty! 🙂 Agreed. Grounding is named that for a reason I guess! 🙂 Thanks again for taking the time to stop by and read. (so many things to grab someone’s attention these days, it’s just nice when people take the time to stop, engage and comment, even..) 🙂 Take care!