poeming, thinking outloud and other juxtapositions



when we fall

we fall hard. and fast. we fall with no style at all, just a crunch, thunk, crash.
when we fall, we can't catch ourselves, because it comes too fast, too quickly.
when we fall, worlds all colliding in the multiverse, pebbles in the hands of giants.
we fall into the release, into the now, into the eternal wonder of falling. and the world

 rejoices because just when we think we're falling, we are finally learning how to fly.

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Ok, you might recognize that as coming out of my piece earlier this month about falling. Which I basically rewrote into a poem today.

I was thinking about how once again I "forgot" yesterday was Tuesday and spaced out on sending the 52 weeks poeming prompt. (Which is why once upon a time, I did say that I would send the prompt on Tuesday or Wednesday.)

I was thinking about how this winter is ending (again) with today being (hopefully) the last day of freezing weather. And yet, while it's essentially almost over here, the very north east is getting a doozy of a blizzard with hurricane strength winds. (And I have a lot of friends who live in the path of that storm that I am thinking of this morning afternoon.)

And I'm looking forward to poeming every day in April. Practicing. It's all about practice.