Wednesday, December 21, 2011

From a favorite poet...

Hope flies on  dragonfly wings.
                 Thin glitter
     whisked with the breeze.
                         Such a tiny, delicate song.

The trumpeting of the heart is so very loud.
                   Garish.
              Grating the soft meadows
                       with harsh hot and cold.

Together, the soft and the weak,
                   the proud and the overpowering,
can make such a melody
          to soothe
                 the sadness
          that lingers in our
                 tired,
                        tired hands.

C. Rose Morris

(Was intending to send this to Dr. M. I think he would have liked it.)   Enjoy. - c
            

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