She resides on my left inside ankle,
a small mermaid, tail curling, her aura
like a string of bright green seaweed,
spilling runes I cannot read.
But I know you, Moira,
traveller of long journeys,
survivor of storms,
sister of the deep sea.
Last week's Sunday Scribblings asks us to write about a tattoo, imaginary or real. These days I'm deep in research here in the very beautiful stone city of Inverness, Scotland, and poetry comes slowly.
Good one. (Almost makes me wish I had a tattoo of my own).
ReplyDeleteSlowly but beautifully! This is lovely.
ReplyDeleteYou're in Scotland now??!!! I've always wanted to go there.
this is lovely. you should have posted a pic of the tattoo also.
ReplyDeleteThank you all for commenting, but the tattoo is entirely imaginary . . , though I know a young woman who has a lovely small butterfly tattoo on her spine, I'm not quite so brave.
ReplyDeleteLove the tat, Beth. If this is any indication of your writing in Standing Stones, I'm already sold! I'll follow your blog until I see it in print. Any good leads yet? I met you and your husband at the PNWA dinner; followed you to the after dinner party like a lost puppy looking for a friendly tummy rub or dropped morsel of food, but alas, when faced with the onslaught of winners and agents, I was not capable of schmoozing...what a sad puppy. Hope all is well with you, and once again, congratulations on your award. Wow!!
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