I learned to be wry to survive as a child bit player
in my family theater
while you were bred on the rock
of North Atlantic grit.
When we found each other’s hand
on the coastline of alterity,
I discovered that we wry and bred
could sustain each other
in our journey home together.
this was a lovely and intricate post... a blending of wry bred that must be quite the sandwich!
ReplyDeletewelcome to this blogging adventure...
I hope it provides an opportunity to breathe and write and express across many dimensions
Yes, this was inspired by a special wry bred blend indeed! But I think of the blending more as a quirky calzone than a sandwich.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comments and the blog invitation, Harlequin. I look forward to the possibilities of reading, w/riting, and rhythmic tics along this slippery path.