1719

image from google dot com


a rattle of beads
the gypsy woman eyes closed
will now scry to them

❧✿❧

at the creek a web
no spider has spun awaits
the careless trekker

the helpless cry of
of an animal ensnared
sends a chill through out

then the drumbeat of
the natives sound in union
with swaying of leaves

for there is no sin
when hunger of a village
recedes in a feast

they plaster small huts
with the rich mud they know so well
for threadbare dwelling
© gillena cox


Wordle 211




Revisit
Wordle 124
Wordle 152
Sunday Lime 1


Welcome to Sunday Lime #45 adding a bit of fiction to today; Sunday Smiles


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Poetry Pantry 264