small stone, day eleven:
crusted with frost
the grass
makes each step sound
like little broken deaths
*
Don't know where that came from. I'm stuck in some kind of Martian imagery this week, and I imagined each blade of grass as a root-bound Martian, frozen by our strange weather (after all, it is red hot on their home planet), unable to move as paws and boots came down upon them.
Now I'm feeling bad for imaginary aliens!
Do you ever have moments of unexplainable anxiety? There's probably a pill for that. If I had insurance, I'd explore it. The taking of pills. As it stands, I'll try to slow my heart and remember that it's sunny out today, finally, and everything is fine. I swear.
I do like this, RS. Very striking...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Fiona.
ReplyDeleteCount on you, RS, to slap an imagem a feeling and a sound into my head that will last me forever.
ReplyDeleteEverything is not fine! That´s the problem! I could say "it´s all in our heads" except it´s not, it´s all over the planet! I actually think these times might be the end -- apocalyps now!
ReplyDelete*takes breath, calms down*
I do love the small broken deaths, though =)
Wow. I'm totally taken with all your Small Stones efforts - but this is my fav so far.
ReplyDeleteThis was a lovvely blog post
ReplyDelete