It’s Poetry Friday!
A line from this poem cropped up in my memory this week. Something about the rhythm, not the words, came back.
Poetry has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The memory of the sound of it can linger in some far dark corner of our minds.
So I went searching to find which of the poems I’d written once upon a time had that piece of a line/sound I was remembering. It took a while, but I found it.
as Monarch wings.
you wither today
to see you
learn to say