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Mystery Writer
18:36 May 15 2009
Times Read: 1,343






My life is filled with fancy.

I confess my guilt,

Painting faces on rocks

And summoning angels from coffee filters.

My bare hands dabble in lacework

Tatted by the midday sun

As she flies her shuttle through branches

And leaves where my savvy cat lies napping

In the tall summer grass beneath an old oak.



The day my daughter's principal called,

Allie cried, suspended

For feeding a student hamster food.

I laughed and lamented

That life is not better recorded

Because I want to read every precious word.



The words carved in soil beneath my feet

And fingerpainted on the Mississippi

Who presses her river smell

Deep within our bones

While the seagulls squabble on shore.

It is only a moment more until I mourn

The passing of this one,

Before I have painted its face on a warm stone

Or taped coffee filter wings on its shoulders

To delight my friend who catnaps

In the garden of my deepest fancy.