Mind flighty as a hummingbird
at a bottlebrush tree,
back and forth, groundless . . .
Cure: Touch the petal of a rose;
twist pine needles between fingers;
pluck a stem of grass, scatter
black seeds into the air,
watch them fall back to the earth
where they belong.
My Tiny Throes 
I have been thinking alot about finding the calming center – your poem gives me a lovely road map – K
LikeLike
Thanks Kathleen–I find the closer I am to earth, the calmer my life becomes.
LikeLike
Just dropping by, Jeff, I have missed reading your wonderful poetry. K
LikeLike
It’s been a long dry spell. I’ve written a few things, but haven’t felt up to posting them. I’ll get back to it eventually–in the meantime, thanks for the encouragement!
LikeLike
hmmm…the cure seems simple enough, but when the mind is such a state of movement, simple can be quite tricky. cute write.
LikeLike
Thanks–and good to see you, rmp! I’ve taken a little leave of absence from blogging for a while, so I’ve missed out on a lot. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up soon.
LikeLike
Glad to see you are alive and well!! Certainly understand the dry spell but I was getting worried 😦 Nice to see you’re okay.
LikeLike
Thanks C.C. I have a few poems I might post this week.
LikeLike
Great! Looking forward to it. I always enjoy reading your writing 🙂
LikeLike