Written for: The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #534
Words: bear, breath, gods, cat, taut, gaze, digital,
crave, light, host, scribbled, crosshairs
Host's neck grew
taut as he cast
his gaze at an uninvited
bear, who sighted him
in thick bush's crosshairs.
Breath of the gods
was hot, not favoring him
with light. No one noticed.
His guests were digitally
preoccupied, sitting farther
back, craving some stingy
sunlight. He did not think
it wise to scribble
a hasty text on his phone. Eyes
were glued to the bear. How
long could this standoff last?
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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