Let the Frenzy Begin

Stepping out of my comfort zone and onto a path less traveled. Poetry, a contest, and a surprisingly personal spot of writing.

The Offering

Hollow gourd.

Barren supplicant.

Ropes of pulp,

Stringy and sodden.

Bold stench.

The odor of earth,

moss-like, moldy.

Dull and sweet.

The cycle of yearning.

Hope.

Despair.

No Harvest this year.

Arms outstretched,

Muscles strain.

Salty, sharp sweat.

The offering made.