Sad, disgusting, unfathomable
these days have been.
Humanity lain bare, bloodied, pained,
drained of faith and angry.
I dare not look into my
neighbor’s eyes.
There is nothing there
I’d wish to see.
I read rare books and consider
photographs, some old.
Troubling, yes. But inspiration
oft comes from what once was.
Few things remain as in the past they were.
Tastes, thoughts, feelings linger, true.
Now look upon today. It’s jarring, loud,
inescapable, unendurable.
Ah, a small green toad has entered
‘neath my door at rear.
I look into its eyes and it stares back.
Is that hope I see, or is it fear?
I smile. “What’s up by you, little guy?”
Escape from heat of sun, no doubt.
He chances trust. I fail him not.
To shade of woods he’s gently put.
It is not blame cast round, nor force of brute
that maintains things lingering on.
More oft it’s intent to put aright
with gentle caring hands
that finds reward of lessened fear
in eyes that dare to trust.
What? A snake now edging ‘neath my door?
It’s young. Be calm. Don’t bite.
In fairness all way round, as with the toad,
I’ll try do my best by you.
Pray never me that fears without some hope.
Pray never trust that’s clean wiped out.
|
Tuesday, July 25th, 2017
Phippsburg
ME
USA
|
