Horror Vacui

~ the fear or dislike of leaving empty spaces, particularly in an artistic composition


yesterday, I watched cumulonimbus clouds dance their anvil jig

tomorrow, I will cruise among their almighty thunderheads

today, I hunger for the tart, clean texture of a Colorado peach

today, I yearn for the lusty breezes of spring,
winter remnants skimming across novice green grass

today, I adore the pungent taste of black licorice
puppy’s exquisite kisses, until I cannot handle them even one minute more
the exhilaration of a rowdy wind in my hair, pedaling my Townie Electra fast as it will take me
street photography, subjects unaware, placed within my viewfinder, chill and aloof

today, I crave the scent of ciabatta bread fresh-baked with my own two inarticulate hands
flamboyant array of hats and scarves, crocheted with love
the impactful power and reach of the written word (occasionally, my own)

alway, I seek joyful reassurances from authentic hearts
nestled snug and warm within a canvas that lacks for nothing

nothing at all

About the Author

Julie Allyn Johnson enjoys long walks in the woods with her puppy, riding her bicycle, travel, photography, crochet, diving into historical novels and hiking in the Rocky Mountains with her husband where they hope to bag a 14er come fall. Her poetry has been published in Lyrical Iowa, Persephone's Daughters, Typishly, The Esthetic Apostle and Coffin Bell with work forthcoming in the fall issues of Loch Raven Review and Chestnut Review.


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