poetrybyheart.me

Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Re Turnjng

cannot read or write

my days brand new world again

now legally blind

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Same old problem

Still can’t figure out their rule for writing/ Maybe another time.

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MY FOREVER HOME

Cicadas hum music outside my window

Sound heard ever since my childhood days

I must be coming full circle

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Challenges

When I cannot see

My fingers do the walking

Bodies can surprise

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Once More

I’m in a new home

Muse fermenting energy

Most welcome gift

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maybe

I want to write but need more low vision aids. I will persevere. ❤

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Coming Back Home

WordPress is changing and so am I. The simplified format beckons. I have new stories to tell.

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A New Abnormal

My vision began to plummet a mere month ago
Macular degeneration run rampant
Blogging became too difficult for words
I'll keep you as posted as possible

a New Abnor

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Haiku: Promise of Spring

Snow shrouded tree limbs
Dark twilight shadows cover
Promise of hope hiding
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TURTLE TALES

Yesterday in the paper I read a story about a Misssissippi map turtle named Charlie who had made friends with the family he lived with. This took me back to memories of a Georgia box turtle who once lived in our house.

One Chrstmas my eight year old son Donovan announced after he had opened his presents that there was something missing. He wanted a pet. The next day we went to a pet store so he could pick out one that caught his fancy.

Donovan wandered among the pets for a while until he made his choice, a Georgia box turtle with one gimpy leg that he named Alfalfa. Alfalfa liked to be taken outside to walk in the grass, as Charlie did. And also periodically got lost, like Charlie. Usually I was the one to find him.

We had to learn Alfalfa’s ways as he made his home with us. We used the top of a round Playskool tinkertoy box as his water bowl. It had a raised circular lip that was the right height for Alfalfa to stretch his neck out to drink. Since we did not keep him penned up, he had the run of the house. When he was thirsty, Alfalfa made his way to the kitchen where we kept his bowl on the floor near the sink. Then he waited for one of us to come put water in it for him.

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