From some far
off place a
voice weakly calls
and my weakness
which I’d thought
was a strength
wrings with a
familiar haunting toll
whether heralding danger
or some reminder
that the time
of worship is
nigh I turn
away and walk
forward never back
knowing that it’s
just an echo
of something said
many years ago
Simply
Slow brings
with it
a simpler
sample of
life living
becomes smaller
sips turn
into taste
and taste
into flavor
and texture
from smooth
to sandy
and savory
becomes sweet
Boats
It took little
and then less
and finally all
to start with
and also end
so goes the
oar and love
both little boats
Ooops
Spark or tickle
hiccup or yawn
all are surprises
like a fortune
cookie without wisdom
shrugging of shoulders
annoyance veiled as
amusing still some
degree of chagrin
and charm trying
to disguise them
Possible
Oh to say
that anything is
ever really over
is a luxury
of one’s denial
not of destiny
fate takes the
winds of misfortune
and turns them
into tempests of
fury and despair
but the calm
breeze of destiny
does not blow
but quietly carries
the leaves of
hope to the
dark rich soils
of what’s possible
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 