Wisdom is a
brook in which
one can when 
found dip hands
in and drink 
at first cold 
and then moist 
it gives life
wisdom is like 
the water itself 
only a reflection 
of what’s been 
and by virtue 
of its movement 
is never there
long enough to 
pool for a 
pool is life’s 
end quietly languid 

The beauty 
love is
its wellspring 
from which 
everything else 
flows forth 
becoming trickle 
brook river 
ocean clouds 
rain and 
even snow 

Leave everything 
as you 
found it
leaving things 
better is
arrogant leaving 
things worse 
is selfish
just leave 
everything be
for you 
don’t know 
its purpose 
to you 
or anyone 

You a divot
just an impression 
a thumb print 
left by squeeze
where once held 
and now gone 
it still remains 
never bouncing back 
or ever disappearing 
never a blemish 
or a bruise 
but a part
of me now 
never ever needing 
to be noticed 
as something new 

I remember him
with him words
poured forth from 
me as though 
he knew right
where from the 
start to tap
like a woodpecker 
or divining rod
or a forester
planting spiles into 
maple trees and 
watching the sap
dribble and then 
flow saturating pages 
that I now 
know as inspiration