February 10, 2013

  • How Good the Life

    What have I to say?
    I can say the sweet things, the accepted things
    the heart warming, precious things.
    Speak of love and the expected things.

    But how hard the life?
    The road of bumps and gravel dust,
    of roadside weeds and ungated railroad crossings.
    And always forgetting to look both ways.

    The life of pebbles that break windshields
    and jiggling of toilet handles to prevent a flood.
    Watching dimly lit gas gauges on E
    and quickly mown yards with untrimmed edges.

    Oh, to notice the perched hawk, saying hello to him and following his stare as I pass
    Wanting to remember the first days of the new seasons and to watch the Sun and the Moon
    and to know when and where they will rise and how full it will be on my free Sunday.

    How hard the life to forget these things?
    How good the life?
    To want these, to have hope of these.

    I am as much as the beetle stranded on his back.
    For even he struggles to right himself and live.
    If he, then so will I.

    DSS

     

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