impatience

the mountain
watched
the sun

cross
the sky
slowly
every day

and called
it
impatient

forgetting
it had never
moved

but
the mountain
still spent
centuries

criticising
the sun
for leaving
each evening

unaware
dawn
had always
returned

never
realising

returning
was never
the opposite
of leaving

　

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August always feels a little different.

If you’ve been thinking about joining the paid community, this feels like a lovely month to do it and support the writing.

For a limited time, paid subscriptions are 50% off.

Or, if you’d simply like to support the work without subscribing:

☕ Coffee, cake, or a book and help keep the poems flowing.

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Something more poetry from me?

or maybe an essay on what happens before any words are written

Nothing truly leaves — it only changes how it stays.

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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery