For The Sunday Muse Prompt #92 and Matthew 11:28-30. \\\* Beyond the drying and the dying salvation calls; the distant shimmer of light cast by the morning sun a whisper to the weary; Come, draw nigh all ye who are heavy laden, who bear the burden of a common life around their neck. Hope and Haven is the promise, if we dare go through the door into the way.
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #83 . Image “After The Rain” by Cyril Rolando \\\* I tremble at the echo of the booming thunder, the resounding of its clap like the roar of a lion stirred, a brilliance incandescent in its majesty as it splits the night sky like a warm knife shears butter. I have shivered in the embrace of a light rain its fluid fingers, by persistence finding their way through my garments till they meet my bare skin. ...
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #81 . Photography by Sarolta Ban (Website HERE ) \\\* The lure of the lyre - alive in its reverb - calls out, inviting beauty and the beast to dance, to yield to the rhythm of the wind, as it rustles in the leaves, swaying the trees. We all - boar and deer- of earth born and saved, gather here, to dance the gentle dance of the dark.
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #75. Image Source . \\\* A yellow orb,tethered to the earth by slender strings descends, its yellow light a hue cast over this dream in which I find myself looking at my selves; the past and the future holding the hands of the present, tiny figures scurrying up ladders which seem to reach for the sky, reinventing what is seen. Darkness lingers in the corners of this vista but stroke by stroke pixel by pixel, the dream and reality are slowly melding into one.
For the Sunday Muse prompt #73. \\\** Beneath the garb of Prudence and propriety deep delight can lurk.
For The Sunday Wednesday Muse Prompt, Garden Spot. Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash. A nod to the still vivid memories I have of being dragged off to our family farm by my parents in those dire, dark SAP days. ** First comes the rain, and then the wakened worms which turn the hard, sun-baked soil into compliant mulch. Grain by grain, leaf by leaf the beauty of Symbiosis begins to rear its head, the cycle of death begetting life and sustenance for the things we must ingest, for which with backs bent beneath the blazing sun we labour; the reward of another day survived eked out from the hard, earth.
For the Day 2 prompt, a poem about questions. \\\* What is this which zips around my ears, its sound like the deep hum of an old man hunched down, stirring up the sand. It shimmers in the morning light its back a splash of gold splayed across the sky, against which stand the silhouettes of great metal tubes bending to its will. What is this but the wind, which goes wherever it wills.
Photo by Skitterphoto from Pexels, for The Sunday Muse Prompt #48. \\\* Maybe it was the slant of the light streaming in, slicing through, as it were, the haze of yester-year’s detritus; the half-drawn blind like a mind stretched thin between leaving and returning, a face half-turned towards the memory of lost songs hovering just beyond the reach of a quivering tongue, and this present brooding. Maybe this is what the burden of life is. To carry, buried deep within one’s heart, the remains of the songs of one’s youth; until in a season of re-memory, they all come back.
For Prompt #45 at The Sunday Muse. Image “Be Free” by Magic Love Crow. \\\* Line by line the silhouette of an angel rises up, phoenix-like, in the space where the prophet’s finger parts the sand. This is what freedom is- the delirious joy of walking away from the baying crowd, the space between the lines as alive as the lines.
For The Sunday Muse #39 and Wordle 387 from The Sunday Whirl. Image Source. \\\* Here in the shadow Of despair, loneliness Hangs in the air like A wet coat, the silence Like the weight of pebbles Beneath which which one sags, Broken at the knees. Each step towards The distant light is a prayer Of repenting, for forgetting What love in the wild Feels like. Step by step, walk after walk We are making this world Whole again, heeding the Inner call to become Wild and free again.