Moisture is clinging to everything –
on the undersides of flower petals
it glistens like starlight,
on the edges of the awning where it
drops on my head just as I step
out from under,
on the slick black back of my cat
slinking through the bushes hunting
lizards.
But I am dry, dry, dry
so that even my bones creak & pop,
the blood in my veins slowed to dust,
making me wonder if I’ll ever be
juicy again.
Charlotte Hamrick 
Well done! I love “slick black back of my cat” quite a bit. I love how “creak” and “pop” are working here, too, to get the actual sounds.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate your input – don’t stop! (Improvement suggestions welcome, too!)
LikeLike
Vivid imagery and of course I love the reference to the cat!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Meooooow!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have read this several times now. Wonderful imagery and rhythm and sound. Also I second Seeker70’s comments. Love this.
LikeLike
That feeling is like a restless lump of anxiety. I think we all have it to some extent right now.
And yet much of the world is still itself. (K)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Wisely said. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the creak and pop reference. Wonderful post.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you & thanks for reading!
LikeLiked by 1 person