Rebecca Danelly Oxley's poetry. Poet previously known as R. Danelly Johnson or Rebecca D. Johnson. Becky Johnson. Original poetry by Howard Moss Poetry Prize winner. Mostly free verse. Comments are welcome
O, for a muse of fire
Inspiration, enough to succor generations of hungry senses, drops lustrous fruit, flings through mist on newish wings, rattles through morning’s weary engines, falls about me on leaves tumbling down through lemony air.
Sabrina put on her new red Keds. Mom didn’t want her to wear them out on the ranch. The other kids were wearing their old, stained and worn tennies. But Sabrina knew a crisp winter day with a perfect blue sky was the kind of day to break in her new shoes. Arguing with her mom made her lag behind as her sister Sylvia and their friends Anne and Kate ran down to the tank. Finally, Mom let her go. “Don’t blame me if you ruin ‘em down in the mud!” she shouted as Sabrina chased after the other girls.
