Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Poem - Apropos of nothing really...

You
say that
an ode shall
bode well. You say.
You say the muse must be 
told that she should leave. This
will leave many things unsaid -  sad.
May she  tarry a while so we can savor,
her joy of life, of flower and bird, peace and
love of life. We will gather her pieces of life
and connect them in our baskets,
until they are overflowing with love
of each other and joy of nature.
She can pass to other souls
who have need of wonder
But she must return
to replenish
until we
rejoice.