Wednesday, August 01, 1990

Untitled 1989

A beautiful day --
The smell of fresh mown grass
tickles my nostrils.
The wind gently rustles the leaves
above my head.
I saw a caterpillar creeping along a flower box,
Making his way under an avenue of petunias.
A bird soars majestically through the sky
upon conflicting winds.
A tendril of scent whispers of cornfields in summertime
Like country-fresh sweetness, ripe to bursting
under warm sunlight.
The wind catches the laughter of a child
and places that smile gently upon my lips
where it worms its way into my heart and lodges.
A ladybug alights upon the back of my hand
as I sit still in the wonder of God's creations
and rested, she spreads her speckled wings
to fly on.
I think she smiled at me before she left.

Untitled 1990

The words are bubbling away
inside of me --
Working up a strange concoction of convention
Simmering slowly,
Til the finished product is
more than drivel.
I want the words to come
together in just such a way
as to reach gentle fingers around the
heart of the reader.
And long after they believe it is gone,
Squeeze it tightly.
I hold in the palm of my hand
of the forgotten kind.