One Day at Salamander Creek
As rare as the quiet given by a present mind
The rustle of leaves
melded with my roaming eyes
As tall oaks shade the beaming sun
from my shoulder blades
It was a warm morning
Sleep still coated my gaze
Rose colored, refracting light
silenced
the kinetic buzzing
***
Able bodied.
***
As we fell into step
long stride to short
He held my hand
Slow, down the winding road
passing campers
tents splattered with dew drops
to smile wide at glistening water
***
We stopped by the lake
***
I p r e s s e d my toes
into the wet, warm sand
no one was there
There were little holes dug by little hands
from yesterday’s yesterday
hiding spots for tiny
Wildlife
I peeked into hole after hole
Holden from dust, I thought
and watched a salamander.
***
Shiny black skin
concentric white circles, breathing
my fingers reached into the makeshift pool
to pet a tiny head
***
Willful
Garden of Eden
***
A pebble
clattered, holds a door
O p e n
***
It mattered
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
Keep reading
More stories from Michele Nampalli and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Irony of Flying While We Bomb the "World's Greatest Terror Regime"
Ah, the irony of flying at this moment in time as the United States is simultaneously bombing Iran - the nation officials have insisted for decades is "The World's Greatest Terror Regime" - while the TSA is on a go-slow, courtesy of a funding squeeze that's left its officers unpaid, quitting in droves, and turning checkpoints into something like slow-moving bread lines.
By Scott Christenson🌴3 days ago in Humor
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.