Spent day lily stalks mark the passing of summer. Fallen blooms, once orange and peach ready to compost into next year’s spring.
They come . . . out of nowhere Lent for a moment. Swirling colors, passionate inspirations, lyrics hummed, whispers passing through. Words fall like rain. Pluck them, and toss them like splashed paint. Spoken once? Twice? No, in endless combinations Just composted words. Copyright CP April 11, 2012