Song of Myself
I thought about all the places I find my soul. Surprisingly, it can change from day to day. Today, this is where I spied it. I don't think it heard me there on the stairs, holding my breath, listening to it its little song...
in an attic
near a scruffy
clothed in 40's
like the grass.
over under rafters,
urge and urge
and urging a
song of myself.
Walt Whitman 1940's Edition of Leaves of Grass photo, by L.L. Barkat.
LL's Grace is a Painted Woman: Unfolding Imagination
LL at High Calling Blogs FedEx Your Soul
Laure's 10 O'Clock Morning Hour
Yvette's Sin is Like That