I see your face
And hear it sing
A song as way of life.
I watch you sing
And with my fingers
Trace your features.
I hear your face
And place each note
Into a pool of wisdom.
For in your face
I see a deeper music,
And deep in every song
I hear your face.
© jsmorgane (July 2010)
During the searing heat of day
A cheerful brook had told me many things,
For which to seek I left
The shelter of the cool and silent house.
Beyond, I found a bridge
Fallen into disrepair.
A sorry sight, this state of sure neglect.
So without hesitation
I crossed the bridge with steady step,
Returning to it some of its former dignity.
On the other side an orchard lay,
With apple trees, and further still
Uncounted waves of fields rolled
Far into the distance.
Bending under burdened trees,
I found my way, dappled with light,
To the very heart of the blooming garden
And there I saw a well, run dry:
A sigh of sleeping air,
When I tried the pump.
I took the cracked crock,
Half-hidden in the grass,
And in the dimming light
I ran for water from the brook.
Spilling most along my hopeful path,
I poured what little water there was left
Into the dry well’s thirsting trough.
But from the mouth no water came.
Instead, a many dozen fireflies
Flew from the dry well’s spout,
And danced around my head
Like a crown of living fire.
© jsmorgane (July 2010)
A mother, the ground to stand upon
A little brother’s fair hair in the sun
A father’s shoulders to climb like a tree
A first song, still remembered
Two adventurers by the river
Sniffing the air full of Indian summer
The worlds behind the words we read
The satisfaction of achievement
The first time being told you are not good enough
A finished painting hung on the wall
The sheer pleasure of a good conversation
The colleague who believed in what comes after
Two kids reminding me of the ease of living
The friend who sees you when no one else does
© jsmorgane (June 2008)
