Saturday, August 15, 2009

March: Year-day 75

March: Year-day 75 Now the storm is over, the linemen gone, and poems I meant to write still somewhere hid beneath my consciousness, I now go on, determined to fill the blanks, seal the lid, even if it does take till fall, or next year. When faith weakens, hang to hope: The trees-- though so many by the vile ice were hexed-- did, frozen to earth, spent, trunks split to knees. And so, when what is sought is found, and shown, budding all over with flowers and leaves despite their wounds, which cannot/ be removed, I and you will be happy we had known the man who struggles rules the man who grieves, raising in sunlight what persistence proved. -

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.