In these days of generous rhythm,
heavy with fine prayer,
birdcall,
bloomy sea,
split open to thrumming seeds
In these days of refuge
that offer up cloisters of skin,
harvested silence,
gardens of revel and bask,
emitting wild grace
In these iridescent days
fierce
with possibility,
my mind is a kite,
a weaving sail.
Bionote
C. Cavanaugh writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative non-fiction in the desert area of southern California. Her work has been published online in Flash Fiction Magazine, and The Heduan Review among others.
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