This morning’s air
Hangs heavy and
Damp like the
Air in my
Mom’s kitchen when
She’s cooking filled
With the aromas
Of damp pine
And wet grass
Low sun bathes
Tall trees in
Yellow like creamy
Oozing eclair filling
While steam dances
Against my nose
From hot coffee
Like breath on
Cold winter days
We think of
Ourselves as so
Unimportant we think
That we’re overlooked
We think that
We don’t matter
Until you spy
That little church
Mouse crouching in
The corner knowing
That your small
Crumb means the
World to him
We’re all but
Church mice cowering
In the corner
Wherever we are
Be the man
Mouse or crumb
Give what you
Can as often
As you can
We think that
We don’t matter
Until one simple
Voice says I
Wished that I
Could’ve just hugged
You once and
That’s when the
Drums of your
Life silence and
You realize how
Simple you really
Are to most
People you’ll never
Ever ever meet
Here hug me
Before you go
We are like
A River at
First strong deep
Then we went
Our separate ways
Saturating the landscape
With our richness
But like all
Rivers we will
Meet again at
The oceans start
Can a bird
Sing when flying
Or does it
Sit silent while
Wandering much like
You I wonder
Do you sing
Songs of me
When you’re fleeing
Or are your
Words only spoken
When you return
