A little something from my notebook...
Between June 5 and now, something is starting to take shape.
No spoilers (yet), but here’s a glimpse from the margins:
“Some pages are written to be read aloud. Others are meant to stay folded.”
If you're curious, you're in good company.
If you’re in a writing mood, here is a short prompt:
Folded Pages
Write a short poem beginning with a memory that feels too small to matter and let it open into something meaningful.
Try including:
something unread or unsaid
the way light hits a table in late afternoon
the smell of dust or ink
a line that’s never been spoken aloud
A simple prompt to get us started. Let’s stay in touch and writing a little something here and there.
More soon,
Robbin
Dust motes on sunbeam
Her tiny hands flutter dance
Chaos in their wake
Hi Robbin, I’m excited to have stumbled upon your Substack and to take inspiration from your writing.
I wrote this a few minutes before finding you -
Rain pours
And I listen.
Ducks still quack. They invite
Joy, peace and a purpose beyond
Rain fall.
But it fitted perfectly into your writing prompt.
I hear ducks frequently from inside my home usually on sunny days when windows are open. This morning it’s been pouring and I heard them early as I wakened and that ‘small memory’ of ducks quacking stirred me to write