I wonder what
If we were
Happy having what
We have rather
Than wanting what
We don’t I
Wonder if there’d
Be less conflict
And more acceptance
I’m happy with
What I don’t
Have satisfied in
Knowing that my
Baggage is only
Filled with those
Things and people
Important to me
The sun hits
The tree tops
Like foamy crests
On ocean waves
All white and
Rolling as the
Sun moves higher
Into the sky
Tree trunks lean
Like firewood against
Each other and
Oh the smell
Of earth bathes
My nostrils there
A damp coolness
Like a refrigerator
Door opening in
July on the
Forest floor as
Dew streaks all
The car windows
Cardinals sing from
Bushes and treetops
Calling their forever
Mate that’s bobbing
From line to
Post like a
Telegraph message morning
Hasn’t arrived though
You can see
It’s puffs of
Yellow like a
Steam locomotive just
Beyond the hill
As no more
Than a thousand
Crickets coming off
Third shift wish
A warm goodnight
Even the birds
Observe the weekend
Few are singing
Less are flying
It’s quiet here
Except for marsh
Frogs, cicadas and
Crickets car tires
Kick up gravel
Resonating like firecrackers
Or like the
Tearing of rolls
Of paper towels
A human voice
In the distance
Reminds me that
I’m still me
Quietly right here
In life and
Love we often
Run away from
What we are
And choose what
We are not
Eventually both catch
Up with us
Surrendering we fall
Defeated but just
Until our heart
Takes its first
Full deep breath
At long last
Alive
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 