Lemon Tea

I wondered how close the fire when I walked into the haze, at first. Skies are pasted with a light frosting; the promised sun diffused. Friendship is casual and honest with a slice of lemon that compensates.

Power is sought to refrain from habit; weakened and subdued. A quiet mind drifts on melody that slips into the sacred ponder.  House sparrows dance with nimble claws through lilac and lavender.

Shadows pull back as the sky burns through the low hang over.

Spring is too loose to keep a choke on. It will soon be replaced with something stern; more intolerant.

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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