Tuesday, May 7, 2013

First Day Twelfth Hour.


She picks the exact stones and sticks

Scattering them in the same pattern

On the first day 

On the twelfth hour

And wait with supressed hope

Unwilling to jinx the smallest chance

Of perfection descending again

Upon the insignificant

With ambrosia in its hand.


Juli said...

Love this.

And I think we've all done it as well. Hoping to re-create perfection.

Launna said...

This is lovely... oh how we do search for perfection which I know is a myth... still we search:)


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