some words apprehend the next
without millstone or rack to ruminate
– consecutives in easy lines
along folds, pressed together
like sheaves – snatches of hymnal
associations we keep dry
between pages, on knitted brows
songs sparked from campfire
prayers beside the shrine
gathered here today
A late assemblage of 44 words with Lillian for her quadrille prompt: Shall we Gather
And so am also free-ranging in the Imaginary Garden’s Tuesday Platform
PoetryPix 
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