a descent into poetry insanity |
| Twins. One walking, one just big enough for her first booster seat on wheels with a long handle I can steer when her arms tire. Running, wheeling back and forth. So many treasures-- a milky white stone, a long black feather, a caterpillar cupped carefully and passed from hand to hand. Wide eyes as I tell them it will grow wings someday. A butterfly in oranges in blacks settles on a wheel as though to demonstrate. Laughter. Prompt ▶︎ |