Thursday, December 09, 2004

poem Middle Essence


Age old desires crowd the sweet
rebirthing we’ve been lead to

anticipate. A crack of
vitamin light suppresses

the urge to summarize what
clearly is still unspooling.

Days, careers, an ignition
promptly turns itself over

and cycles through another
blue and glorious. Memories

charge the atmosphere. Adult
children show. We stay. The late

hours accumulate. We feel
another morning story.