Spring March sun hits the latent vegetation of my soul head on. Through skin, blood, bone, suddenly set ablaze, I feel life, open eyes, stare at a lady blackbird frozen in time on the lawn in front of me. We, immobile, soak up our distant sister’s energy. Just girls. Chilling.
Here’s a wee poem I wrote in reply to a prompt on a website I follow. The challenge: Assonance. I put the link to the post on Brian Vos’s blog below my poem, in case you want to have a look. Cosmic Morse Code The light of a dead star still sparkles in my nightContinue reading “Cosmic Morse Code, by Britta Benson”
I remember I remember the late summer sun rising the day she died. Mum was patiently waiting for worlds to wake up before calling it quits. She left us under beautiful, shimmering rays with the warmest caresses. We ate ice creams in the garden, flipped and flopped. She, a glimmer. Above. Always. Britta Benson