This Now
The dog snores.
The coffee colds.
The heat whirs.
Pope Joan
Hestia
Sappho and
Marguerite Porete
await my attention.
The journal pulses.
Death is open-mouthed
swallowing another
body into its belly
depth, darkness:
the hold before
a new birthing
untangles into the
light. Grief is a
grotto we slink
into – weep, laugh
sigh, sleep. Our
flushed cheeks
press against
seashell
walls.
VANESSA SHIELDS 
I love starting my day with your words Vanessa. They certainly inspire thought and investigation ~ you rock sister V!
thanks for including me 🥰 write on and do not forget to get,
your rest, your occasional retail therapy,
your dose of love making!
Robin M.
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