Monday, May 3, 2010

A prose poem - "Yes"

I lounge like a lizard, on a warm Rock, listening to Water trickling into the pond next to my deck. The Air stands still and outlines my skin with amoist dew. The Sky arranges herself smoothly across the heavens, no wrinkles betraying her blanket of breath. The Sun insinuates himself into my exposed pores. My inner editor continues arranging thoughts in neat categories and rows, even though I have long abandoned any interest in them. There is a peaceful sense, a psychic knowing on a cellular level that I really am a part of Nature.

Prompt words: psychic listening editor abandoned sky


--Terra Rafael

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