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.

Feeling It

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

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