Paul threw a knife.
It bounded off an aspen tree.
The blade vibrated as if it thudded into the trunk
and the remaining energy wiggled off.
The vibration created an audible sound.
Similar to seventeen year cicadas.
Paul turned his back to the vibrating knife
feeling a sneeze coming on.
His sneeze thundered through the aspen grove.
It displaced the slender trees a few millimeters.
Surface bracken puffed up into the air.
Maybe an inch. Dust lingered at ankle height.
The sneeze rolled the knife over.
It ceased vibrating and played dead.
Paul kept his eyes closed after the sneeze
and stood up straight.
The sun shone directly on his face
and whispered Gesundheit.
by KENNET P. GURNEY
© All rights reserved 2021
His poem was almost as difficult to gasp than your ones. Good job ken.
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*grasp
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We try our best to be as slippery as eels in a tub of Vaseline! 😁
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