wildwestwind: I Stay Tight as a Bud

Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

I Stay Tight as a Bud

I stay tight as a bud the rest depends
upon the weather and whether I can
drink your water through my toes

see how the petals nest inside each other
the one spinning against the outside my
overcoat these 64 years keeping all this

together note the elbows frayed
the patina of encounters in late
night conditions the slowest to bloom

that's what they say or what a waste
to quote my mother but I'm not complaining
nodding yes can't you see agreement

with the all when it's in front of you
resilience is everything to me the colors
with their elemental promises of one

long parade that day will come and all
the horses with their leis float up like Chagall's
kites making sunrise and sunset at once

I never get tired of the word epiphany
though it's out of fashion I know and
I know too the many splendored day

should never be saved up it must be spent
woken up lifted against the eternal night