Skipping Rope at the Threshold

As often as we might come here
We are never skeptical of the weather
Even a slight shower will not control
our bold urge to unwind en la parque

I am the first of eight; I control the sign to
go or stay. Mama is home; the ninth hermano
almost here. At the threshold of womanhood,
I wield my sword of power gracefully.

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Painting by Joaquin Sorolla, Public Domain

 

Day 14 of NaPoWriMo finds me once again in the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, where Hedgewitch suggested an ekphrastic piece based on the artwork Joaquin Sorolla y Batista, a Spanish painter whose works emphasized the natural light of his homeland and the people who dwelt under that light.

Also for the Sunday Whirl, where I managed to get the dozen words in two stanzas. Whew! Thanks, Brenda, for the prompt. Also for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where the weather’s always fine.