for The Sunday Whirl
Our mighty words unwind
often bold and searching,
casting splendor across thresholds of thought.
Gardens bloom beneath our fingers
making skeptical syllables sigh.
Some embellish words to the nines
some place them
Sundays in springtime bring gardens.
Last fall’s election brought swords.
Our words spark and ignite
as we tumble together
smudging our spirits with Sundays.
Pieces tumble onto pages
as the journey takes control and our words
speak from that murky place
where soul resides,
making spirit soup on Sunday
where all these poets whirl.
Brenda Warren 2013
A little soup for day 14 of NaPoWriMo. This piece is dedicated to all the great poets who write with me each week at The Sunday Whirl. Thank you all for supporting me here and there. You fill me up.
I just posted this and realized that it is my 200th post at undercaws. Caw! Caw!