Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

...stillness. duration.

a slender white egret - 
immovable, mirrorred - 
contemplating
its own reflection in the pond: blink, blink.

it's only when it lifts off with imponderable grace, 
expanding, shedding itself - 
all spirit, all force - 
its transient image left behind to dissolve 
    
      like an abandoned shroud
      like a skin that's no longer needed
      like an old coat of feathers one can discard 

that you know time has passed.

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My inner mystic is plagued by insomnia and runs entirely on divine grace. The outer shell, however, does occasionally need: jasmine tea, ice cream (preferably salted caramel), good books, music, and new horizons. If you’d like to help keep this blog alive, please choose an amount:

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