It’s not that it’s
Over that bothers me
It’s the picking up
Of all the pieces
This thing of yours
That thing of mine
And what to do
With the things that
Are ours when ours
Is no longer a
Thing and remains nowhere
Where exactly is nowhere
Oh right I know
I’m smack dab in
The middle of it
And with each season
Comes it’s own surprises
Awake aware abandon acquiesce
Bud blossom befall bedtime
Curious crave collapse close
Dawn desire descend die
On through the alphabet
No matter the season
Whether it be love
Or life or time
The seasons always march
To an invisible drum
Heard by no one
Yet felt by all
As I have gotten older
I’ve become more aware
Of the little things
Having been bombarded by
The grand things of
Life I have sought
Refuge in the quiet
Things raindrops on eaves
The scratching of fall
Leaves and ant hills
That seem to erupt
Overnight through sidewalk cracks
The slower things like
Inch by delicate inch
Of freshly fallen snow
That crawls against windows
And plump caterpillars that
Wind and weave munching
Polka dots in green
On their way to
Emerging butterfly and oh
Yes love as called
Accepting it rather than
Seeking it there’s comfort
In the little slow
Things that simply show
Up for no other
Reason than being themselves
And I taking notice
You can’t cage a
Bird that wishes to
Fly first you’ll break
Its heart then you’ll
Crush its spirit and
Finally it’ll stop singing
Every time that door
Opens it’ll try to
Flee until at last
It doesn’t becoming far
Less than what it
Was to both you
And mostly to it
Love knows no age
Nor does it know
Time it doesn’t recognize
Distance nor does it
Ever really make rhyme
It’s never ever easy
And it’s always surprising
Love is like air
After drowning it’s like
Water after running it’s
Like fire after freezing
Love is a blanket
That someone covers you
With while you’re napping
Love is so many
Things that if we
Just stopped to think
For a moment we’d
Realize that yes we’ve
Been in love so
Many many times before
Starting with our mom
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 