*
it’s there you know
poetry waits patiently
for me to return to
our holy silence
to our time alone to
that embrace if I could
never let go always
be poetry myself
.
.
.
.
*
it’s there you know
poetry waits patiently
for me to return to
our holy silence
to our time alone to
that embrace if I could
never let go always
be poetry myself
.
.
.
.
*
it’s part of nature
to wait it took me
a long time to get
it to taste the truth
of such statement
beauty of flowers
starts in the cycle
the seed growing
in darkness eyeing
the sky smiling to
the breeze falling
asleep at night so
many times until
it’s fall come in
time that is a
repeat that
is patience at his best
.
.
.
.
.