Waves surround being–
always changing
both mover and moved.

The hand opens,
permeable,
to let light pass
through.

Birds squabble–
brown, ordinary,
almost invisible
in the freckled light.

And a heart
takes something—
call it hope, perhaps–
and dances a little
in the dark

A quadrille for dVerse, also inspired by a prompt from Miz Quickly, above.  I am always intrigued by her prompts, even if I don’t often have time to do them.  In this case it fit in well with my thoughts about Mish’s word, “freckle”.