Word Mill


Mount Señor Garcia and Lake Chapala from my gazebo

Word Mill

The world I see outside my sill—
the clouds that cover lake and hill,
treetops and vines that seek to fill
every space–both rock and rill,
completing  crevasses until
they’ve rendered empty spaces nil.
These things now serve to fuel my quill.
They are my unguent, band-aid, pill.
They prick my fancy, charge my will.
They level out that long uphill
journey to that final kill
when wan and empty, sore and ill,
I will finally pay life’s bill.


The prompt today is quill.

10 thoughts on “Word Mill

      1. slmret

        It’s too hot here to do any baking at this point. I was out around 3 pm, and it was 95 and getting hotter. It’s supposed to be even hotter tomorrow! I’m glad your clouds and your mood have lifted!

        Liked by 1 person

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