Here’s a little wanderlust inspired snippet to remind you to get outside and notice. There are no small things.
How the acrid hamlets of beneath-log worlds beckon
To faerie hordes seeking cheap rent.
While the construction noise of flicker-rattle interrupts the raven’s sky rage rant,
And fae folk scowl with tinker noses scrunched.
Micha’s golden fish scales, peppering paths,
like midas scattered his trailing tears.
And though foolish told to low-lying men in suits,
Lie they glittering, priceless to me
and the passing of my staggered step.
I would wedge my heart beneath the logs, and gladly sublet.