After a drizzly morning,
clearing clouds reveal
the remnants of a rainy day.
Pooling puddles shine
like mirrored glass
on the sidewalks,
just right for jumping.
Little legs running,
frog-hopping feet
splish-splashing,
sending water flying.
Soaking sneakers, soggy socks,
and a little boy
bending to examine
a wriggling worm.
© Amy Porterfield 2020
“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.” From Sand and Foam, Kahlil Gibran, 1926
Step softly into this sacred space
Of prayers, whisper-soft
Carried on bird’s wings
To heaven, shining through leaves
Of stained glass.
Step softly into this cathedral
And walk into
The welcoming arms
Of God.
© Amy Porterfield 2020
I happened upon this tree while I was walking my dog and I was so struck by it. The tree has grown up through the fence, and now the fence is a part of the tree. I thought, well, it’s kind of like life, isn’t it? We don’t get to choose the circumstances into which we are born, or the obstacles and challenges we will face. But we were meant to grow through them. Our challenges make us who we are. They grow us into who we are meant to be.
That, and it also looks like the tree ate the fence.
om nom nom…
In response to November Writing Prompts at https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/.
I went for a walk today to take in what may be the last of the fall colors. Most of the trees are near naked now, but I did capture a few gems.
The colors have been beautiful this year, a literal feast for the eyes. Autumn is my favorite time of year.
In response to November Writing Prompts at https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/.
Waking early
breakfast, carpool
drop-off, pick up,
working, working.
Welcome home,
I’ll cook, you clean,
with cats and kids underfoot.
Help with homework,
bath and bedtime,
collapsing on the couch
exhausted,
embracing the sweet chaos
of our lives.
©Amy Porterfield 2020
This is my response to the prompt for 10/23 over at October Writing Prompts.
(I’m a day late. Oops. But I really liked this prompt.)
But I wanted to do something different this time, so I tried a new form, Joseph’s Star, which I had never heard of but I found over at OctPoWriMo 2020. I was going to try to meld the prompts together but it was more than I could manage when it was so early and all.
Anyway, here is a Joseph’s Star poem about cowardly connections.
Troll
looking for
weaknesses exposed
a cowardly connection
your unabashed cruelty
missed it’s mark this time
you can’t hurt
me
© Amy Porterfield 2020
Responding to today’s prompt at
A smear of yellow mustard on a sandwich,
a crisp, red apple,
plump, purple grapes,
crunchy orange carrots
all lovingly packed in a brown paper sack,
the color of her affections.
© Amy Porterfield, 2020
(This is my response to today’s prompt at
https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/10/01/october-writing-prompts-3/ )
I see him,
he doesn’t know I’m watching.
The way he folds the laundry
while he watches TV,
the way he packs lunches,
the way he still hugs and kisses
our growing sons.
His gentleness with babies and kittens,
his tender heart.
His softness is his strength,
masculinity that isn’t toxic,
that bends but never breaks
is seriously sexy.
playing in the dappled sunshine 