She holds an icy Corona
in wispy willow hands,
turns her lazy gaze
to the burnt brown bluffs
coyote brush and sage;
at shadows trembled
across mud river remains.
Ants crawl
and a rusty nail
lies amongst
the stone stained broken
shards of earthen vessels
at her feet.
This is a wordle poem. Jump over to the Wordle site and see what others did with this week’s words. I also had Joseph Harker’s Reverie post in the back of my mind while I wrote this. He challenged us to take a basic image and add poetic rhetoric to spin the poem.
Hoofprints In My Garden 
This poem makes me curious about the woman. I wonder what’s going on in her mind. Very nice imagery here.
I love the vivid imagery, almost feels like I’m right there with her sharing a beer. Nicely wordled!
Thanks Mary! I noticed you used beer for Corona also. Great minds…
Wow – despite the rough surroundings, she seems very much at ease. A tight, descriptive write. That beer sounds good.
Vidid imagery here Annette. Nicely done 🙂
Quite the scene you’ve painted with words. I especially like “wispy willow hands.”
Thanks Brenda. I really have fun with the Sunday Wordles.
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Thanks for the ping back!!