A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the years following, from August 2024 to August 2025, 2025 to 2026 (provided I live that long, of course).
Thank you, Chilly Charles 🎄. I've contested the Charlie Chaplin thing a couple of times, won once, if I remember correctly. But it's the kind of thing I try when bored and have nothing better to do - just doesn't seem to have happened lately.
A tiny sprig of moss
etched against the darkness
and a drop of water at its foot,
bold outlier
of the fetid forest behind,
it leans a bending branch
to peer at its reflection.
That first raindrop after drought,
silent explosion of dust
scattered in the thirsty air
and the damp drawn down
in the heated earth,
a dark patch
on the parched patina of dirt.
The antlion’s conical trap,
innocent in the sand,
with one grain falling,
footing lost at last,
rolls down into the depth
to the miniature jaws awaiting,
drama beneath notice.
Line count: 21
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 14
Prompt: Write a poem about at least three ‘little’ things that make you happy.
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