Why should a journey
of a thousand miles begin
with a single step,
when all I want to do is land?
Why can’t I rise like a lark,
swoop like an owl in the dark,
or skitter like a turnstone
among limpets and cuttlebone,
dashing up and down the shore
and taking off in salt-washed air?
I don’t want to use my feet
on muddy fields and dusty streets,
but long to flap away on wings
guided by invisible strings.
Kim M. Russell, 7th April 2022
On the seventh day of NaPoWriMo 2022, we are writing poems that argue against, or somehow question, proverb or sayings.
writing in north norfolk 
Oh to fly and soar! I absolutely love the imagery in this, Kim 💕🙂
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Thank you, Harmony!
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Too right. Who wants to land ankle-deep in mud, slide on ones bottom, and get all mucky! It’s blowing a gale here, too. I’d put laundry out to dry, but I fear I’d be chasing after it into the next county.
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Same here, Marilyn, with intermittent sun and rain. Not a day for hanging out washing! I’m listening to podcasts on Sounds: currently a ghostly novel called The Lost Stradivarius by J. Meade Falkner.
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You’ve lifted me up this morning, KR. Thanks
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Cheers Ron!
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Oh to soar like a bird! Love the sounds here: “skitter like a turnstone / among limpets and cuttlebone.”🍃
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I’m happy you like it!
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I love the imagery here..
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Thank you!
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We’re soaring. Lovely. Thanks.
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Thank you, Selma!
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