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Saturday, May 16, 2015

Clarence

 
Confused in male bravado, steeped in chronic anger, I met a gentle poet.
He reveled in reading aloud thoughtful words composed on the breath of a loving, God filled heart. In my ignorance, I was somehow embarrassed for him at first yet I listened.
I listen now for the gentle wind that carries him home.

Some men are bridges that others may cross over stormy waves of hateful need to placid
depths not stained by violent fear.

Thank you, Clarence for being true to your deepest self and with courage and great aplomb …  sharing with us all. I am a better man because of it and suspect there are many more.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

A Small Birds Feet






on the ugly yellow gold formica
lay the tiny clawed feet of a
bird. I looked for a moment ...
maybe two. mesmerized. then i
remembered that yesterday i had
spit the stem of the seedless grape.
my heart jumped as I gazed at it.