Cleaning out the refrigerator. Combining leftovers, making the disparate whole. Or at least more of a sum than parts.
Also there's a bit of a prompt in this. Given a handful of ingredients, what's the dish?
A prompt can generate a poem. Or at least its attempt.
H/continued
ReplyDeleteNo regrets in the mind of the traveller
One who must find other joys and sorrows
in lands beyond her familiar territory
There are truths which traverse boundaries