Yard Sale of Thoughts

6 am, I stand tall with the trees.
River's small talk chatter splashes the tongue.
I resume downward dog before the sun.
Find table top on hands and knees.

Good and evil swells; the volcano steams.
Jasmine incense bends deftly 'round the room.
My two, white Frangipani hands take bloom
as cobra rises for a scream.

To manifest what is inside of you,
be like the lizard; bask on high beams.
Sprinkle holy water like morning dew
let nature sync reality and dream.

Be still and empty as a sound bowl
till fate strikes you vibrationally.

©2025|K.F.Hartless

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GloPoWriMo#26: Try your hand at a sonnet – or at least something “sonnet-shaped.” Think about the concept of the sonnet as a song, and let the format of a song inform your attempt. Be as strict or not strict as you want. I think of this one as a distant cousin of the sonnet. You know, the one you only invite to family reunions because you have to.

Artwork: Mikenzi Mitchell