One must have a mind of spaces.
Imagining windblown silence
In a meadow, summer ripe with butterflies.
In between the hustling tornadoes
Of traffic jams and parking fines.
Or the pin prickle caress of spring rain
Washing skin cleaner than baptism,
One’s soul dancing with the divine.
Between inhale and exhale, seeking
A sanctuary for the urban mind.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
This poem is the first to come from a series of five prompts from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan