Almost thought I wouldn't get the mental space to write today what with so much going on with the hacked email account and countless well wishers calling in.
But finally I did.
Today I.e. Day 17 prompt was to write a poem about at least three of the five senses.
The call of the cuckoo bird
Like a deft crochet needle
Diving into sound
Knitting laces of octaves
Moss on cliffs
Arching it's back in abandon
Craggy chins velcroed to emerald cheeks
Grey aching silently beneath the brilliant velvet
Wise, aged tree barks
Stenciled in warm brown and crimped tan
Resin, sap, nectar running in rivulets
Filling tiny creeks of wood like tears filling eyes
Sensations run from nature's spigot
I hear them, feel them, see them
In my knuckles reaching out to them
Even as I parcel them in my lungs for next life