Minds
like mine
are bound to
slip away into the
swells, blown away
through cracks in time
to where a poem dwells.
Fans of verse may lure me
into sitting on a fence picking
bones of words that together make
no sense. I sort them into towers, then
grasp more words to build trapped words
in frosted pyramids with messages well-chilled.
The Sunday Whirl words are: bound slip swells fan luring fence cracks bone tower frosted trap grasps
The photo, taken by me, is of a snow-covered venting volcano.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Great picture and poem Judy!
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What awesome poetry Judy.
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Sadje, I am getting thousands of views per day from China lately. Is this happening to you and if so, do you know why?
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That happens off and on. Once it was Germany and at another time an African country. I think it has something to do with WP algorithms! It will soon end.
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This is wonderful, Judy. Love the shape.
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Thanks, Sara. Kind of childish, but I love shaping words like a kid a the beach building sand castles..or other figures.
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