Let me be
the sparrow
that delicately
balances on
the flimsy
dried stalk of
a black-eyed
susan.
Let me be
the shadow
walking across
the yard
offering a brief
respit from
a blistering
sun.
Let me be
the apple tree
that withstands all
the seasons
without complaint.
My knotty arms
are capable
of turning
the stillness
into fruit.
Let me be
the apple
that when ripened
is plucked
from my home
to feed the hungry.
COMMITMENT IS AN ACT
While commenting about commitment Jean-Paul Sartre stressed that “Commitment is an act, not a word.” It’s really true.
We seldom give a word of commitment rather than commitment of action.
As Ralph Marston puts it.
Whatever you’re truly committed to, is exactly what you’ll…
Without rain’s palette cleanse, with the breeze’s
gentle push, the summer heat simmers the post
card pond into a thickening sauce.
Algae wraps the glassy mirror
as if the water’s delicate reflection
is too fragile for our eyes.
Nothing sits still in a stale pool. Seeking
fresh air life continues to churn
as it meditates on the cushion.
Mosquitoes and snakes infiltrate
the lovers’ tranquil shimmering sunset,
stagnation’s better dressed sister.
Tell me your name. No,
not your given name
that is laminated on
your ID badge with
a corresponding bar
code that gives you
access into the bowels
of the corporation.
Tell me the name you’ve
given yourself when
the lilacs sweet bouquet
wafts through the air
and turns the key
that releases the shackles
of your bondage.
Tell me the name you’ve
given yourself as you feel
yourself folding onto yourself:
dew on your cheek, sunlight
glinting gold in your hair.
Listen to the birds identifying
themselves not with the names
we’ve given them but their songs.
Stop and listen: they are whisp-
ering the intimacies of their lives.
The universe hums along.
I live in Connecticut. My interests include poetry, literature, sustainability, and (sub)urban agriculture.
“Not to be onto something is to be in despair.”
―Walker Percy, The Moviegoer.
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