I see her restlessly hopping from flower to flower
A pattern of busy
no end in sight
no pause to reflect
no deep breath to reset
Inside an igloo of creative flow,
she resides, skimming petals with intricate designs,
premiering a twinkle of ideas–
for us to spy.
Her giggles of glee gloss over our street
and it’s hard not to be infected by it.
The season’s changing
and we are all riding the wave
just like her–
erupting with intentions
all over the place.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
As a child, I rejoiced in making French braids and high buns out of its thick curls. I wrote my own stories within the impenetrable knots of marriage and motherhood, weaving through her silky strands that seemed to extend for miles. The comb that would agitate my own coiled hair would billow through hers, without the slightest effort.
INT. Industrial building. Public Gym. Virginia. Two females have placed mats in the free weight area. The plan: pilates with weights. They stagger the mats,
Today I started the hunt again same one I’ve done over and over for fourteen years. I put on the camo, wiped clean the rifle,
On one hand it’s all I want and can’t, maybe won’t have. On the other hand, it’s mine to love. The two opposites splash me