11/20/18
Do not downplay the joy
And blissful tearful discovery
Of learning to love oneself,
By scoffing at overdramatized words
That come from small idle mouth.
For they are themselves as well,
And they are realizing this universal
Truth along with you yourself.
Every individual is somebody.
I see this as I sit at the window,
Watching the early morning wake,
Seeing bushtits flit from crabapple
To dying tulip tree. They coexist silently
Upon each other, on the gentle
Offerings they can lend
Upon humble branch or wing.
They whisper it, whistle it,
Their delicate secret, to a
Sea-whipped wind.
See the sky? The barren ground?
See the darkened banners
That sift across the sun?
We are a part of this,
This everturning world, oh
This taunting singing world.
So won't you take my hand?
Take it, and we head out the door
To imprint upon this place
The raw true stamp of ourselves.
YOU ARE READING
Hello, November
PoetryThis is a collection of my writings from November 2018. It's a continuation of "Poetry" and "Poetry and Writes", but will be much shorter. I'll try to write something each day of the month and post as I go--even if what I've written sucks. Who care...
