Prose poetry
Time Keeps on Slipping
Into the future
Holding pattern continues — unsteady footing while butt-sores inflate — a noble whisper’s little voice entered tune.
One cannot fly with the eagles while hanging out with turkeys. ~ Duane
Patiently, the heartbeat waits — to sing valiantly the echoes of canyon song — anticipation mounting whilst the waiting place gets darker as days go by.
Promised zoom calls falling flat — no answer to declaring finite — hence, we wait and write to tell another tale. Spoken words — transcribed into spacious thought — coming to life as promised by eagle’s glare.
Neighboring neighbor slumbers the day away — whilst flight anticipated awaits — no time to lose, no time wait. Off and away — soaring higher than yesterday — I want to fly like an eagle — Steve Miller calling, let my spirit carry me.
Tick-tocking beats — goes the waiting place sanded grains — excitement is mounting with feathers fanning out for northern skies. Cold is the blistery calling — Superior’s bone-chilling charade — packing everything from flip-flops to triple-down goose feathers.
Chapter’s closing song — interlude of this inner space — vocal cords readied for the new song’s sizzling melody…
