One needs a little dull.
Gray, fallow ground of naked winter
Wrinkles, cracks, rocks,
A leftover wheat straw
Stuck, quavering in cold mud.
Folks gathered on a weathered wood porch
Staring at nothing
Waiting for nothing
Holding.
Grit, under an old boot sole
Half-screeches hardship
Half-whispers freedom
Beneath steps without invitation.
Adventure
Time
Struggle and
Celebration
All pause.
Space not for let
But to allow.
Room not to fill
But to air.
How do I stay fresh?
Like this—
Inside a hoary mystery
That resolves in its own good time.
© 2020, Anita East
ANITA EAST has been writing stories, funny letters, and melodramatic poetry since second grade. She didn’t keep much, bouncing around the world, but has it on good authority that there are always more fresh words to write.
Most of Anita’s writing topics involve subtly bossing people around who are on the verge of consternation and sheer panic. Some call it “inspirational writing.” Others don’t know what to call it, but claim it’s worth a giggle.