Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
Suppose your life
was a traveling circus—
all set-up, show,
break-down, go,
the ringmaster’s whip
cracking in your ear
so you hid
with the elephants
in the room
called Book,
and you learned
that life was more
than clowns and tricks,
so much more
than the Dicks
and Janes and Sallys
in the audience
hand-picked
for their breeding
and compliance.
Suppose you trade
that life
for a wildflower bed,
where roots grow
alongside
second chances,
and a weed or ten
is no cause for tears—
you know yourself
without grease paint.
You know dirt, mud
sun, storm. Your kitchen
is warm, your table
wide, ready to feed
any guest who hungers
for all seasons.
Published in The Jarnal, Vol. 3, 2023