Nowhere, slow By Bill Pearse on February 9, 2019 • ( 4 ) The spent tea bag stapled at the top, the icicles dripping on a Saturday afternoon freed from any thought of what time it could be, spread out like a soft cheese with hair unwashed, snow with nowhere to go, nothing we don’t have we need 47.583154 -122.045068 Sammamish, WA, USA Share this:SharePrintTelegramWhatsAppTweetPocketEmailShare on TumblrLike this:Like Loading...‹ Man, 48, transmogrifies to Indian salmon pictograph on Cougar MountainThe weight that won’t shake ›Categories: poetry, writingTags: mindfulness, mindfulness poetry, nature poetry, pacific northwest, poem, poetry, William Pearse writer
it’s all right there
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👩🏼🎤
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I don’t know why ‘stapled at the top’ got to me but it did. I can’t imagine why.
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Still life of a pear.
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