March 13, 2018

a prairie dog made of paper *

Don't blame me for this slippery well my mind has fallen down.
Don't look for that old shopping list I used to take to town.
Don't criticize my driving or the detours in my wake.
I've lost the itch for quickness. I thirst for what I make.
Today, it was a prairie dog - a folded paper thing.
He rose out from the flatlands; I thought I heard him sing.
With scissors at my fingertips, I briefly broke the spell.
My own hands' certainty: the compass down that well.
The paper emptied of all words. He rose on tender feet,
then winked at me as if to say there's joy inside each crooked sheet.

* Yes, you can make one, too! Here's the link: 
http://cp.c-ij.com/en/contents/CNT-0011234/index.html