These little berries on the old sour bush.
Seven years ago I stood on Church Street in Atlanta and wrote a poem comparing my lover’s kiss to the first bloom of spring.
The best thing about this foto is I woke up horribly sick on the day I planned to go out to the park and snag a dragon for the day’s prompt. I managed to roll out of bed, literally, and pour my feverish limbs and feet into cloth and shoe, and got as far as the front porch when I was overcome with sweat and lightheadedness. I decided to take Tylenol, lie down, sleep it off a bit. I woke… Keep Reading
This, during a walk through the botanical gardens at my daughter’s school.
You are not good with math, a little funny, close to your weight goal, almost there, pretty when you smile, a work in progress, runner-up, sort of shy, procrastinating, just a girl, better when no one’s watching, the last one chosen, overthinking it, ambitious, average, a slow reader, just not his type, quiet at parties, too loud, emotional, lacking stamina, too dark, in need of some color, a little damaged enough.