The Sound of Ink

  Whispering leaf bones of pines emerald my window as the last gasp of winter foams the horizon.   My heart lifts a psalm of spring in goosebumps along my arms.   The constancy of season’s change breaks the glue of grief I’ve been mired in.   For a few chords of hallelujahs I am the wings I begged God to send me. ©Susie Clevenger 2021 The Sunday Muse #149

A spring evening, coffee black without moon, plays a chorus of frog and wind chime. A small solar light in the corner of the garden guides me to a chair, and winks its caution to remain silent. I take my seat and give thanks for its wisdom. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 Real Toads ~ Wordy Thursday