Sunday, January 17, 2010

Poetry: Home


Home

Feels like

the cool blowing

over hot dusty day

fresh

dry

Moving softly

the opaque

curtain

to fellowship

and adoration


Radical chanting

Youthful adrenaline

Uselful in their time

Fade

to soft, hopeful

Love


Here, we focus on

small fruit trees

not quick sod rolls

Mango

Avocado, olive


And I can see

the great brush strokes

Above

While I push away the chicken

clucking below


You know,

To have your feet on the ground

and head in the clouds;

Two things are required:

High elevation

and

Long legs

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