Walking alone ‘neath rainy skies and tasting all
the moods and colors of broken clouds and of the
dewy flowers and green, green grass shimmering
in partial bursts of ragged sunlight, I probe heart-stabbing
loneliness, empty shrouded mists of useless questions.
Succumbing now, I wonder why you went away without
a word, without a reason. But still I find no answers.
A Golden Shovel Poem, in which the last word of each line is drawn from a line in Mary Oliver’s poem, Hummingbird, published in “Owls and Other Fantasies.” And that’s the prompt today for dVerse Meeting the Bar where we hope to meet you.