Poetry: Forayer1 min read

That’s me—

One single meek marauder—

Just a

Homeward-bound scavenger

Wandering over wrecked pastures,

Scrambling up sodden mountains,

Foraging in broken fields,

Biding my time in the barrens,

Sunburned under ample skies.

Always finding

Enough

More or less.

stinkyzen

An autist diagnosed later in life, with a love of reading and writing, and some fairly quirky attitudes.

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3 Comments

  1. You acomplish a lot with very little here, I like the sense of intimacy and isolation you build.  It’s playful and I relate to the feeling of wandering and wish I could do it more myself.

    1. Author

      Thank you.  I believe I’ve finally found an apt audience for some of my poetry and writing here at the Aspergian.

  2. I love your poem.  It’s kind of my dream place.  Calming, interesting, and solitary.  Where I want to be.  Thanks

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