January 18, 2014

Time comes and walks back out,
like an old dog waiting for his dinner.
Writing has since done the same for me
back in 08 blog writing was a new scene
I towed my own line down that river,

cold as it was to start.
Others water flowed by,
leaves caught on the wind
dropped down to take a ride.
It’s inviting even when snow falls.

A few readers drop in on conversations,
about life and love and agitation
when family was good
when things turned sour and burned
food crept in

Always on the stove of the mind
heating up the days congestion
words coursed through the throat
a life line of all things burdened.
High heat can scald milk,

but left out for two hours,
you can make yogurt, add culture.
Taste better with fresh fruit
crushed with some honey, left
in a cold dry place.

This piece just kind of came to me, not sure it will be a permanent piece for a book. I’ll let it sit for a while…

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