a broken triangle,
long ago, a pyramid,
its sides drifted apart,
a zig that zagged,
first right,
then left, and right again,
now the soft sound of snoring,
zzzzzz. Zounds!
Vat vill zey say?
What was once that first mound
from which all life began
is now a girl's name,
Zeta, born last,
ze end.
And so ends that Blogging A-to-Z Challenge, a full month of poetry. Some people prepare by planning and pre-writing their entries, but I tried to write each day those thoughts inspired by the letter itself, sometimes the first line arriving, like this one, in a half-dream. And now we are one month closer to summer, the promise of picnics, picking strawberries, more hiking . . . and more writing on that current work-in-progress.
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| Gardens at Giverny (Camp) |
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