BUSY these days
making art from dust,
the common stuff
that falls everywhere.
I start in the morning dark
with what little I have
and see where it takes me.
Learned the technique
from someone who didn’t know she was teaching it.
Not blogging much these days,
all my writing going elsewhere.
A thousand words before sunrise.
Living in a house
full of instruments
nobody here can play.
A metaphor for something, I’m sure.
It’ll come to me.
Surrounded by instruments lying silent,
but not mine.
Just wanted you to know.
Colors at the corner of Happy Lane.
