Today’s prompt was to write a long line poem (17 syllables-ish). As always the poem took on its own life. To me, this is one of the greatest mysteries and joys of being a poet. Poems are living things.

rummage sales and rodeos

i relish the rhythm of rummage sales and rodeos for reasons

known and unknown. the freeing feeling of cleaning cupboards and claiming

a few coins in return. everyone needs to slough off the dry, dead skin:

a necessary step for growth. and after, when the road is rough and seems

impossible, remember few things feel as good as a successful

ride on a wild, bucking bronco; the prize always goes to endurance.

and yet I savor the release,
the pure freedom found in free falling.

relishing rummage sales and rodeos–cleaning out and hanging on–

a perplexing enigma, a mysterious wonder and a truth.