in motion


My cheek is flat

to the cold hardwood,

the crawlspace of cold air

beneath it, the land

beneath that.

My face is still,

my fingers are still,

I hold my breath and my lungs are still,

but the earth is in motion under my fingertips.

Some days it seems to speed toward me,

a cartoon snowball, and on others

it rolls and bounces away, faster

than my flying feet. I can no more stop its turn

than stop the metronome of my own heart.


Tonight the boys will light the candles

in the chandelier over the table

and set it spinning. I’ll put out a hand,

steady the dancing tapers, but even so,

the wax will burn down,

we’ll push back from the table,

another day sliding away

beneath our feet.


Gratefully writing along 

with other good folks 

Write ALM January Prompts


3 thoughts on “in motion

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