The American Sentence
Without getting into specifics (it's personal), the last day has been a gut punch of emotions. I'm trying to be of some help and comfort, but find little I can do right now, which is frustrating. So I penned some private notes into a leather-bound journal for sanity's sake.
You, the reader, get an American Sentence, sort of a haiku, with 17 syllables.
Bare branches bend with the breeze; skeleton fingers reach out, swirl sorrow.
You, the reader, get an American Sentence, sort of a haiku, with 17 syllables.
Bare branches bend with the breeze; skeleton fingers reach out, swirl sorrow.
Comments
For whatever it matters I send best wishes for the unknown challenge that has sucker punched you.
Pretty amazing American Sentence, too.
I just dabble on the surface and delight in facile patterns with the water striders.
You swirl the murky depths, and pull out the big fish.
I am sorry that someone/thing else is swirling your depths and that you find no course of action. There may be none.
Best wishes are mapped from one unknown domain to another.
Best regards,
Chris
here when you need me to listen.