Snagged

Above the River

Trinkets, do you collect them--
perhaps small silver spoons or rows of tiny thimbles, their minuscule reservoirs overflowing with memories--a time, a place?

Though I often gather objects as I’m out and about, I seldom assemble many organized, as such, into a collection. Weathered pine cones or smooth, rounded pebbles usually fill my pockets.
Pieces that define a place, or capture color perfectly--
red of western sand at sunset,
sunrise pink of a mountain in Maine.

Except, of course, Christmas ornaments, amassed over the years, lovingly brought out each December from their protective wraps and gently hung from branches, each piece, a memory--
friends gone on, places behind, children grown.


So, I wonder if that pleasing image, the spangled tree, its stories, has prompted me to begin this, a collection to rival all silver spoons--
the trimmings of the waterways.

Spinner?

Snagged!