Every Sunday morning a writing friend and I connect via telephone. She suggests a prompt, or I do, and we spend an hour composing poetry and prose. This is what came of this rainy morning's collaboration.
Chorus Line
rain, slipping down
from a colorless sky,
lines its drops
along a branch—
one, three, six,
trembling,
a chorus line
waiting to perform;
two hydrogen,
one oxygen,
bringing their own light,
their own music,
they wobble, quiver,
plummet,
the reflections of
everything around them
changing as they fall;
now gray sky,
now crenellated trunk,
now green blades
pushing up from
the thirsty earth.
One Sentence Poem
Compose a poem using these words: molecule, zig-zag, shoestring, calico, quiet, tree
Do molecules
follow a zig-zag path
or do they stretch themselves out
like the trunk of a tree,
like a shoestring,
a quiet line,
like the thread in a calico
quilt
holding everything together?
