For the Skagit Valley Writers’ League meeting last week, we were given the following words to write into a poem. We had to choose at least seven of them. It was a fun exercise and what follows is my poem. No name has emerged yet. Can you suggest one?

Sky                fable               pixilated

Muddy           giddy             gruff

Swan            ripping           nincompoop

Sunset          morgue         hooligans

Poppies         synergy

As evening came the glowing gold of sunset washed across the fields

I strove towards home and crossing, as it were, a stream, I drank

The pure and bubbly waters and allayed my thirst. Light-headed with relief

I raised my eyes to wonders now awakening in that holy space.

The poppies bowed and danced, blood red in the iridescent light.

The song of life they sang was filled with sorrow at the arrogance of men

Who fight and kill and somehow believe in fables of dominance and power

The wisdom of the poppies as they yielded to the wind now shouted to the sky

And one solitary, pure white swan held aloft by that same wind

Answered with a swoosh of wing beats, ripping silence into shreds

And I was giddy with relief that no longer does the morgue of death hold fast

The lives of those who err in foolishness and pride

It yields, instead to life now soaring, dancing, rising above the muddy fields

Of our illusions.

poppies by the wall