The one to the many,
the many to one,
a way to find livelihood
under this sun
and still have integrity
when you are done —
it’s a puzzle, yes it’s a puzzle
The guy on the trail
with a guitar and flute
must have found a nook somewhere
along the slough,
I hear snatches of singing wafting down,
twangy, not clearly in tune
I’m charmed by the willow and wind,
fronds with their soft invitation,
decorous, gentle, still leaving distance,
me hoping they will swing closer
Some big fish
makes mysterious flops
in the water —
the ripples are dancing,
the shadows are, too —
as for me, it’s time to head home.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 24, 2017
No comments:
Post a Comment