Pot Luck


The paralyzing fear called doubt
seeps in through every hollow place,
fighting fragility, I slide backward;
losing my grip, focus fading-

procrastination lurking there
like a familiar old friend for dinner.

the beady-eyed face of tomorrow
staring, like that blackbird on a wire
tempting me to fall again.

Then, light saunters in
like a flower through a crack;
like love,


in the middle of winter.


© Linda Bullerwell, 2016

Public Domain Photo