Slow Down

     
     Eight years
     meanders like riverbends
     then soars
     ever cloudward
     peeking shoulderwise

     Everyone blinks how
     we arrived at this place
     damply imagining
     what lofty follies might follow
     at such heights


The Runaway Sentence is eight years old today! Happy Birthday, Girl!

Sharing on the Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden, where many friends are writing a poem each day in April to celebrate poetry month. I’ve been a little sad about not being up to the challenge this year, finding my time spent almost entirely in the work and family realms. But that’s okay. My kids are growing up fast, like this here little blog. Time flies even when it crawls.