
A smear in my conscousness,
Mere wisp of genius and
Traces where the eraser
Touched lightly.
What was that moment
When I solved the universe?
Aliens whispering non-words.
The pattern clicked.
I trace the arc of a
Red-tailed hawk,
Lazy circles belying
Life or death seconds.
Beneath the mulch-straw,
Garlic pushes its green snout up
While a vole
Noses by.
I dreamed the future and
Woke up to the past.
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to take a line from prose that we love, make that line the title, write the poem based on the title, then change the title. I pulled from the opening of the brilliant Jo Ann Beard’s “The Fourth State of Matter.” Something smeared on a blackboard became this little poem.
Ooh, I love this: “Beneath the mulch-straw,
Garlic pushes its green snout up”💜
Adorable baby garlic!
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I’m so in love with our baby garlic!
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