In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?

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City life

Breath at Dawn
(Petrarchan Sonnet)

Time courses through these busy streets each day,
This early morning is a breathing space
Before the milling crowds come out to race.
I like the city best not on display.
I wrap my scarf to keep the wind at bay
And walk the early riser’s steady pace;
The few who share this hour know their place
And I, at times like these, know why I stay.
The hum of life is moving all around
In stories behind eyes and windows here;
It smells of promise, coffee freshly-ground,
Of dampened pavement, sunrise drawing near;
And slowly as the city finds its sound
The tumult of the day will reappear.


Original work by Olivia, all rights reserved. Previously published in Soul of Wit, which you can buy here, an ebook of microfiction that includes this and other short works by myself, as well as a bunch of other authors. None of the profits go to me, in case you're wondering.

#letsmovetominneapolis

 This world is stunning. And I've only seen a tiny fraction of it.
#pinchme This is where I live.

courtesy of Ben

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