Smoke

Smoke

Words dry up.

Why open mouth

when meaning withers?

Facade crumples.

Yesterday’s headlines ignited,

woodstove burns newsprint.

Toss out ash.

Wild roses, thorns and satin,

love ash,

today’s truth,

yesterday’s smoke.

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8 thoughts on “Smoke

  1. Sitting by the smoky fire with you, Alison, Laurie, Susan… we’re not talking much but we’re sure making noise–slapping those mosquitoes! **grin**

  2. Amazing Kathy…it reminds me of having laryngitis when my children were young. I couldn’t speak for three days, and felt so peaceful. 🙂

    • The gift of laryngitis! There IS a peace beneath words. I can see a day arising when the words are simply smiles. We won’t attach to them, they’re like pieces of bark, or perhaps flowers, or wood ticks. They arise and then they’re gone…

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