Equinox

To think of wounds and scars on a day so fair… I prefer love and beauty — although they aren’t exclusive — liquid ripplets shimmering like pulsars, and maybe that autumny rainbow.

Equinox of my life — half-lived, half-dreamed

But maybe a chestnut will fall right from the top of my favorite tree and leave a scar on my favorite shoulder while I’m rocking my legs on my favorite bench and watching the trees on my favorite hill.

Tiny flies animate the lazy air. What rewards do they seek for their delicate efforts? Do they selflessly conjure the tiny currents that melt into the ones I make with my feet? I wiggle my toes and parry case-hardened chestnuts.

(Get me they will not.)

Diligent leaves already brown sway gently in the fresh breeze as I’m fresh out of inspiration. My brain — a wavering leaf in the creeping owl-light.

Heat dissipation

I stick to the ritual of rocking my legs, pigheadedly steering clear from scars — overlooked gateways to vision — and chanting

In the yellow heat traveling on wafts of air cool, air fresh

That my banalities will miraculously become art I wish.

© Lola Sense 2021

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Thank you for reading and many thanks to J.D. Harms for the prose poetry prompt. This prose poem was initially published on Medium. If you like my work, you can support me with a tip or a coffee. Follow me on Twitter!

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