Adriana.K.Maxwell
The thread twisted into knots, tangled into the rest of the sewing box, needles, pins, and good intentions.
Fox goes twisting through the wheatfield, color of a young boy's laughter
Float away, lazy river, sun falling warm on my shoulders, don't look up, just watch the glint shifting on small ripples, dreaming of fish twisting themselves through the depths
dive deep into a silent world, water heavy around you, eels gliding around like living ribbons, fish darting like fireflies in your grandma's backyard
Pick a basket of strawberries, kneeling down in wet earth, dew dripping off small leaves, mourning dove crooning on the powerline overhead
Talk fast, she's cold and quick. She speaks the truth like a lie and you're never sure what to believe but she's too fascinating to leave. It's like being in love with a tornado, knowing the storm will come but you can't help but follow.
Wander through the town, no rush, stop at all the little shops I drive by and wonder about, it's time to explore, time to know my town, to start to draw a mental map, a field trip for grown-ups
Wait and have peace in the wait, like seeds breaking pathways for roots before they reach for the sky, like chicks in the egg, curled up and growing, like a child with their ear on their mother's heart, swimming in warmth
Patterns are a dangerous thing, a human trap, often helpful, but sometimes we get stuck in the cycle, following the footprints we made before and wondering why we can never get out.
Jump over the moon, find the Milky Way, follow it to skies of clover, with calm pastures of stars. Sleep covers the field where you are from.
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