If the wind came in at 125 mph
I think it might uproot
this small new lemon tree
this small new orange tree
and this just blossoming tomato plant;
but I don't think it would uproot
this lavender bush--purple
for the glory; feminine
in its delicateness--
nor these four sticks--
raspberry plants
that may or may not grow--
common, unlovely, capable
of bearing berries
for years after I am gone.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Poetry
The passage opens
shimmers
invites
closes and opens;
its reality
born in
the child
of truth and beauty.
It holds the clear tone
of each living creature
and of these rocks, too
these leaves of grass
this moving water
and still
this incoming air.
shimmers
invites
closes and opens;
its reality
born in
the child
of truth and beauty.
It holds the clear tone
of each living creature
and of these rocks, too
these leaves of grass
this moving water
and still
this incoming air.
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