Riverhead Poem
“Those mules got in the
meadow and got unbroke.
They were drinking water
from the upper part.”
“That horse got in with
a pack of wild horses.”
“What did you do?”
“I found him and took him home.”
“The Chief’s daughter
has a horse for me.
It’s snow white.”
The Wild
Why do we not allow the
full glory of the wild horse?
I saw a documentary
on how they are hunted
down and exploited.
Are we jealous of their strength?
The Bible says,
“God is not impressed
with the strength of the horse.”
So who are we jealous of?
Only One has strength,
yet we want super powers,
anything to not
say that our strength
comes from
above.
God's Economy
For truth, no amount is wasted.
For illusion, one penny is too much.
The whippoorwill cries in the marsh,
like my friend, who commented on
The San Diego River behind our house,
“River? Looks more like a swamp.”
I remember being in that house
and reading Coleridge, as he wrote
“There is nothing melancholy in nature.”
A moth can flutter around
a sea of moss
and life abounds,
like circumstance
without the need for pomp.
No comments:
Post a Comment