Some days must be met
mouth open, gasped
to swallow a heat
that stains mouths shameless.
Dizzy on sweet, aimless
as bees tasting turned nectar
we circle the day. This is the dance.
We know it, choreographed
not in steps but hours,
a reel of afternoons
greened under fingernails
no soap can wash off
these hands, made to stay dirty,
to pull up this full bitten into ripe
by the roots.
***less a poem, more of a passing thought.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Meaningful to me, Susan. Thank you for this one.
Thanks, Polly. Just not sure it is done yet 😉
Good to have you back and yes its a poem. Big time.
Thanks, David! Hope you are doing well…you are in my thoughts lately a lot, with the upcoming surgery.
welcome back – your passing thoughts are poetry indeed
Thanks, Paul. Missed you guys!
She’s baaack. 🙂 Our garden girl. Beautiful, and familiar images.
Thanks, Rhonda. Nice to see you here! Miss you!
Miss you too…more than you know.
My goodness, Susan, if this is just a passing thought, I wish my thoughts passed so eloquently. So happy to see you here again. I was wondering what happened to you.
George, you have made me smile. Thank you. No big trauma here–just children out of school for the summer, shouldering away the poetry to get their share of attention, as they should. They’re bored with me now, though, and hanging out outside with their friends.
Ahhh, children. I know when my daughter smiles and laughs in my company, she is expressing her sincere pleasure with life. And I also know that it won’t take too long before she wishes she had someone a bit younger and cooler to play with. And while it took me a few years to adjust to this, I have finally come to accept and expect it. And to appreciate the smiles and the laughter that much more.
That’s it exactly George. Could not have said it better. I think Asena and my son are the same age, roughly.
Glad you’re back Susan. We missed you.
re “less a poem, more of a passing thought”
I can’t remember the name of the poet but she was in Chile during Pinochet’s reign and when she interviewed him she just jotted down notes about things she had seen. Severed ears and what not. And then she accidentally put those notes in a pile of poems that she sent to a publisher. The publisher told her that those notes were the best poem! It’s a famous poem. Maybe you know it. I can’t recall its name right now.
Thanks, Georgia. Glad to be back. I have not heard of that poem, and I am going to try to hunt it out online.
I’ve missed you beautiful ~ I caught a sort of a hesitation and maple-sloppy feel in writing this. I loved the swallowing of the gospel ~ Blessings friend ~Debbie
Thanks, Deb. Missed you too!
Always love your out of doors explorations.
Thank you, Nelle!
Lovely “passing thought”, Susan. I wondered when I’d hear from you again. I figured you were in the garden. 🙂
And I was…nice to see you and hope you are well!
We are settling in to our new French life. Just over a week since we made landfall. We are overwhelmed daily but very well and happy. 🙂 Not much space for writing for posting though. Alice
*Looks at hands, string and moment beads*
Oh!
Yes! That’s exactly it 😉
smiles…thought of you the other day and wondered where you were…i like the green under nail and dirty hands…that last bit makes me think of taking life to the full
Hi, Brian! Nice to see you. Even the longer days don’t seem to have enough time in them lately 😉
What poems are but passing thoughts…
Beautifully said.