Tussle
April 3, 2019•62 words
It could be fortunate:
To struggle alongside
in that twilight field
and, at the impasse,
with a wounded hip.
Tightly holding on for
that blessing in the
balance with a flower
close to the chest.
A herald, or a spark
relinquished in the
dark knowledge of
that tiny tussle.
Now the hugest thing,
incomprehensible yet
nothing possible that
could be more kind.