a poetic interlude

It’s my blog, so I can indulge myself and sprinkle in some bad poetry/broken prose. This is one that I’ve been toying with for years that seemed oh so appropriate today.

winter

For just a moment

the child holds the hammer

suspended

above her head.

A look of great conviction

crosses her face

and suddenly,

with a great exhale of steam,

she brings it

CRASHING down

SHATTERING

the ice

on the cold, concrete steps

of that small blue house.

She pauses,

again for just a moment,

to examine the damage.

Contented,

she looks up

to wave to a passing car,

and goes

to find her brother.