This week found us observing nature, jotting notes, painting small scenes with words, filling in blanks, webbing out associations, mulling over animal metaphors and much more.
The following poem sifted through the exercises to various forms and revisions in the space provided and now typed into this space.
I am deer--
in a mist of mystery.
Plural or singular?
Sensitive or strong?
Poised or scared?
Mist revises into smoke searing
through layers of question
Am I molded or free?
Read other poems and their stories at Sandra Heska King's place here.