feiya.Z
I hear them trumpets way up high
golden notes, deep and loyal
resounding through the valleys and mountainside
calling all the farmers from their toil
The lace made fringe patterns on the wall
threw the shadows sideways and off balance
the silhouettes danced slanted against a blank page
like tentative figure skaters along the cold, hard ice
I saw an old lady, toothless, with a gold glinting eye
waving patchwork against the azure sky
she flagged down the passerby with a bent and crooked arm
beckoned with a wordless sound and her worn but useful charm
they all walked past, casting stray thread glances
her stitching was thin and delicate, of honey-maple handsome
but her hands were old, and trembling, it has been years
since she made the last stitch.
writing since 2013 · 33 entries · 33 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means fz showed up.
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the words fz reaches for
wordsalongdeepredpastfaceagainstcasteyestoodeyesheartblackbirdsmoongreen