Weathered — #NaPoWriMo Day 20


You came to us fresh with
untold possibility, as they
always do. A breeze
filled the air, tickling the
edges of bare trees,
threatening to blow the
leaves to come in due
time. A matter of course,
the cycles stay the same
– don’t they? Season to
season — not that that’s
really your game. But
wind can pick up with
a sudden urgency –
watch the things that
don’t have weight –
an anchor — as they
topple. The canyons
rarely grow — season
to season — not
perceptively. Who saw
this gale? Like an aeon
in a moment, the cliff’s
carved back from the
shore, canyons widen,
mountains shorn. This
terrain will never be the
same. Nor will you,
forever changing us. Can
we ever welcome your
kin in quite the same way?
The scars yet named will
be the deepest.


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Bob’s Lap — NaPoWriMo Day 21 Where have you been these days – heart and mind and body? What ground has been b’neath your feet? The soil of what country? Where does your soul