Edges of paths

Waiting
somewhere on the edge
a precipice of undoing
built of memory and dreams,
challenges conspire in seconds
to tear into the minutes
of an expectant day.
The paths of most and least resistence
lay like stones beneath the will
to climb and traverse the promise
of an expectant beat that hums
like a solitary wind gathering
the buttermilk clouds heavy
we lift our soul to higher ground
escaping into the cosmos
to stare at the dreams in their eyes,
thread the needle to sew
a storybook of pleasure,
always waiting to be told.
Slip into the ether
inhaling the fragrant mist
of a future ripe
with sweet gifts in abundance
to open hands and a grateful heart.

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5 thoughts on “Edges of paths

  1. I am so glad to be back after 3 yr hiatus in sorting my real life…was totally bizarre, but am breathing, and laughing again..and glad to see you are still writing such imagery that my mind is immediately filled with pictures in bold colours and breathtaking views! I have missed you Kim, more than most…have tho’t often of you while away…so good to read you again…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is how I know poetry is alive:

    “the buttermilk clouds heavy
    we lift our soul to higher ground
    escaping into the cosmos
    to stare at the dreams in their eyes,
    thread the needle to sew
    a storybook of pleasure,
    always waiting to be told.
    Slip into the ether
    inhaling the fragrant mist
    of a future ripe
    with sweet gifts in abundance”

    I love everything about this. So good to see you back regularly now, Kim. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

Your words are stars and I humbly thank you for shining your light for me....

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