"I will love my crooked neighbor with my crooked heart" W.H. Auden
If
the sky were any bigger it would kill me clean.
like an iceberg into the melting sea.
The sun colors the sky best before it
breaks dawn
each wisp of cloud a red kite on a string.
It enhances the tree clinging to its
last wind-torn leaf
like a mother to her child through the fence of the king.
It’s bigger than a barn from afar, that
tree
and I don’t know its name or how old it is,
limbs full of empty nests unraveling in
the wind.
Too lazy to have walked through a field of grass
to stand under a tree, the vast sweep of
its arms,
and pay homage to that which is braver than me.
Too cowed to lob arrows at he who'd be king,
my capacity to feel small is undiminished by lies.
The sun travels its arc across a
blood-splattered sky
and I finish the day in a multitude of small ways.
like an iceberg into the melting sea.
each wisp of cloud a red kite on a string.
like a mother to her child through the fence of the king.
and I don’t know its name or how old it is,
Too lazy to have walked through a field of grass
and pay homage to that which is braver than me.
my capacity to feel small is undiminished by lies.
and I finish the day in a multitude of small ways.
In concert with the theme March of Time from the poets at What's Going On and with OLN (open link night) at dVerse, the pub where poets hang out. A good way to finish out the week, methinks!!.