• Joe Buckshaw


Curiosity, indefinable like the mysteries

of the outer rims of galaxies millions of

light-years away. But attainable by

desire and mischief, like a naïve toddler

exploring the sharp stainless steel kitchen utensils

with her mouth.

It runs and leaps as a white-tailed deer

in a bright open field. Unbound by the rigid

walls of reason and logic.

Flowing over these walls

like runny chocolate chip ice-cream

on a scorching summer day,

down the soggy wafer cone, falling as

if dropped from that galaxy,

millions of light-years away.

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