Clouds skate by
Like swirls of
Icy snow on
November mornings some
Higher are orange
Like a fruit
Stand but mostly
Gray like Eeyore
The trees have
Pallor a boring
Green like house
Paint the temperature
Is perfect if
You’re like a
Summer Rosa tomato
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
Mirror
And finally I
Found a mirror
Studied myself in
It saw my
Smile my frown
My cowlick my
Beard saw in
It me and
I in turn
Saw you for
You are that
Mirror reflecting me
Batter
Back to the
Dugout having just
Struck out again
To wonder if
If I should
Continue to play
Knowing that I
I have promise
If only I
Could get on
Base I know
That I would
Make it home
MorningsParfait
The mornings sky
Is heavy with
Cream like my
Mother shaved off
Milk and added
Strawberries for breakfast
Thick with dollops
Of clouds the
Blueest of blueberries
Begins to peak
Through as they
Did when I
Was a child
Not knowing my
Mother buried them
A sweet surprise
ThisIsDating
I’m like that
Acorn that’s freshly
Fallen from Mother
Oak landing on
The carpet of
My older brother
And sisters carried
By squirrel and
Buried as bounty
Far from home
Coddled in earth
I survive the
Winters wasteland above
Drink drops of
Water and in
Spring pop an
Arm and dig
Myself to sunlight
This is dating
