Image borrowed from Bing1.
I bought a pink tambourine at a garage sale last week. I keep it on the stack of books by my desk and jingle it randomly through the day. It makes me feel lighthearted, with a touch of madness, like little Pip in Melville's Moby Dick.
On my twilight walk last night, a small owl flew from the pine trees over my head.
Now that most of the trees around the manor have lost their leaves, the otherworldly drone of the interstate can be heard from my bed at night. It gives me haunting, frosty November-ish thoughts and miles to go before I sleep.
My hair is finally long enough to twist up in a messy clip on top of my head. It makes me feel young again (anything along these lines is good) and I've rediscovered all my fun dangly earrings.
Most days I write in crisp fine-point black ink, but today is a pencil day. I'm enjoying the brush of gray lead against the paper and the soft scratchy sound it makes. November is for pencils.
2.
I bought a pink tambourine at a garage sale last week.
I keep it on the stack of books by my desk
and jingle it randomly through the day.
It makes me feel lighthearted,
with a touch of madness,
like little Pip in Melville's Moby Dick.
On my twilight walk last night,
a small owl flew from the pine trees over my head.
Now that most of the trees around the manor
have lost their leaves, the otherworldly drone
of the interstate can be heard from my bed at night.
It gives me haunting, frosty November-ish thoughts
and miles to go before I sleep.
My hair is finally long enough to twist up
in a messy clip on top of my head.
It makes me feel young again
and I've rediscovered all my fun dangly earrings.
Most days I write in crisp fine-point black ink,
but today is a pencil day.
I'm enjoying the brush of gray lead against the paper
and the soft scratchy sound it makes.
November is for pencils.
Tess Kincaid
Posted over on her site Willow Manor
1. Tess's poetic prose.
2. Line breaks by Glenn Buttkus
1 comment:
It's fun to see you transform my gibberish into poetry. Although, I think "November is for pencils" is a damn good line. A real poem is brewing from me on this one...
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