Prosody

I pronounce my words with limited tongue. My vocabulary does not reach the miles I yearn to travel; however, my mind travels inch by inch like a worm. I think larger than the largest word I know, I simply think deeper than a wishing well. My porch gives me time to think: the fuzzy caterpillar clinging on the holly branch, the locust shedding yesterday’s skin, while the snail leaves shimmery trails of his/her past behind. If I do not move, the squirrel chews above me, his nails clicking, climbing the bark, his rhythm I admire,I study his next move. He studys me too. I think my journal is lonely.