Chain the door, begin the work.
claim the moment, exclude the world.
Every effort made to capture
the reality of faded memories,
to refrain from embellishing
upon scenes he relishes.
Swells and spray of ocean fury,
plant on a window sill.
Powerful trigger of emotions,
situations of gravity.
Glass was his medium —
broken, cracked, crushed —
flakes of color in the flicks
and brittle grittle of the grind,
placed by hand, selected
and spread with care. No gloves,
shards and pieces picked from
fingers serving to preserve humility.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle. These words did not flow. I tried desperately to force them into submission.