Sarah L Dee Napowrimo 2025

Definitely feeling the poem fatigue! The sidhe exist telescoped in your pocket They are small only in relation to the bigness of us We are superior only in superseding Look once -their places have become the size of warrens Or little honey chambers of underground bees They hold dances where they are disguised by disbelief Look again- they have shrunk to quantum universes Existing invisible to naked eye - on the head of a pin  Through the microscope they wave bravely Oh to be taken away as a changeling Passed through the needle's eye and made pollen Angry as pale soldiers with sparks of dust and magic 

Compare your everyday present life with your past self. I wasn't sure of anything and am less sure now. It's possible to calculate your days, some say By working out the average and then subtracting. I can say this was something I never thought of  I can work out the passing of time in bluebells, I can work out the passing of seasons and lessons. I am more sure of this as every year leaves traces,  The fallen petals of the flowers' birth rebirth  I can work out the trajectory of things By the direction of the flight of birds Only now do I recognize the effort They tire of, flying back to us

 Day 28  A six-line poem comprised of a statement, a question and a conclusion.  There is a red kite above the houses -  is it bird or a child's  toy? Please specify. So it is bird- nested in my knowledge, its cry twice on the website, listed as call and begging. It is calling and I hope the birds tend to their chicks - when there is a storm, it sends the trees to swaying

  The villanelle Speak of souls born other than our kind, A deer in the shopping mall, spine taut and front legs funny - Seeking some purchase in this country of money   These creatures redefine theory of mind - They say we are less rational than monkeys - Speak of souls born other than our kind   We are puzzling and puzzling the true design, How honeycomb becomes the honey - Seeking some safety in the country of money   So the young deer careers as if he’s blind At the smell of some pale hunter coming - Speak of souls born other than our kind,   He runs for sanctuary, if there’s sanctuary to find Among the flowers and the river running Seeking some purchase in this country of money   The silver deer is the lone deer child And the parents will search in vain for something, We speak of souls born other than our kind, Seeking some purchase in this country of money