Poet Laundry

Thursday, February 6, 2025

Yabber-yabber, do

bird,

it’s no ordinary thing

to hang a song in a tree,

to make a valentine of music,

sweet songbird,

on the vine.

Here I am

all blush and flush and flutter,

raptured full and giddy,

on your golden, wild wine.

Again for Shay's word garden word list (still open for linking): flutter, giddy, golden, wild, yabber-yabber, and for Dora's dverse poetics reimagining (closed/too late for linking).

Photo: French horn hanging from a tree at the DeGrazia Gallery in the Sun.

Sun, sliced in half—

juice and pulp and seeds exposed

by knife blade.

A sip of citrus blood

sugars my tongue

and I toss the hull away.

My requirements for the day

met: I laugh, belly deep, I dance

inappropriately,

I drink this

forgiving sun

into my fraying bones

and forget the upset

apple cart where I’ve piled up

all my shame.

Dora has us reimagining something familiar or habitual with our poems over at dVerse.