The Sound of Ink

Can I swim the desert where the sea died or does sand filled lungs fear drowning? Out where my echo coughs with grit tomorrow is an erasure wind condemned to whisk a footprint’s progression into the mirage of never begun. Hope is a doorway placed in the middle of empty to pour a glass half full. The why is known…The can be encouraged. I am a river of one hoping to become a flood filled with dreamers. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #92 Poets and Storytellers United ~ Writer's Pantry #4

first winter blown kiss delicate frosting of love echoes through snowflakes ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Carpe Diem #1797 New Beginnings ~ First Snow

With the pity of seagulls this human rock flew a puppet’s journey where mist swallows marsh. In the birdsong of capture I felt gravity’s war with sky. Through palms clutching air the wind read my fortune… Your wings are feathers of ink. If you wish to soar the heavens, don’t build a cage with empty pages. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Sunday Muse #89