I once spoke a word
To a little bird
I said, “Sing, o songbird, for me”
I called from below
And it chittered so
High up in the sycamore tree
It hopped fro and to
And I tell you true
It sang high and loud with no glee:
“Begone, noisome one
With your songs be done!
Quit chattering and leave me be!”
Blessed rain falls
Quietly pattering
A soft percussion on a dark night
Whispering
Tickling strings or finger pads or ivories
Feeling the push and pull, the give and take
Hearing the music you can together create
The clack of plastic grates at the ears’ memory
Of all the things that I could be
I wish to live unbound and free
So often do I find that I
Have turned my gaze toward the sky
And though my mind is ever wild
In those fine moments, I can sigh
My eyes are drooping
And my thoughts spin round and round
Time for bed, methinks
I oft lock eyes w’the wheels of time
When they are spinning blinding fast
And all that I can do is cry,
“Slow down, slow down, slow down, slow down!”
A hot cup of tea
My fingers tangled with yours
Nothing else matters
The sun is out!
And so I shout
Of joy and vitamin D!
At last my gaze
Meets with sunrays
Oh, give your gladness to me!
In the moon’s cool light
All the world is pale and still
All awaits the dawn
A Poem A Day 