Listening to every heart
The Dry – From the Soddy - 1860
The old ones say
Be chary what you yearn for
We put faith in for a bit of dry
Not recalling how large a bit can be
A space of dry
Overlooking how spacious are His ideas.
The crustier ones say
He has a sense of humor.
Indeed He does,
Bringing the sun closer, it seems
To cast light in all corners to see if we are now
As dry as we thought we wanted to be.
Drawn from the deep well,
now dank dishwater is used to
Water the soddy from cracking too much,
Lest it blow away.
Birds do not fly in this heat
Unless it is a buzzard or more
To rest on bones of the weary gone deaf
For even the weeds crackle loudly.
Outside, all one wants to do is
Pace through duties, a mind-bending chore
To place one foot in front of the other
Let alone to think of how we
Skipped through spring.
When inside, I need to know
I can still think, still feel, so I sit
Here at my table, the heavy walls casting
Darker, cooler shadows over me,
A bit of light through the one window
And on this bit of sack, I scratch, sketch
Just to hear and see my thoughts,
To know I am
[This message has been edited by Sunshine (07-16-2002 08:56 PM).]