how high’s the water, mama?

there are so many things i cannot reach
so many miracles behind glass and
roses i’ll never cultivate
and all these days filled with bugs
and better thans and never enoughs

there is always that sky
through the tall short-lived poplars
growing faster than posterity

there is always a kitten
causing trouble in a field
of grey mice

there is always hope and
always love
(that cliche of a word
even poets
can’t define)

and this one
grape hyacinth
growing stubborn
along the road
refusing to care
if i notice




2 Responses to “how high’s the water, mama?”

  • Gerry Says:

    You seem to understand exactly what I need. I’m sure all your readers feel as I do and we continue to follow you because you understand! This poem teaches to see the blessings, too!

  • Renee Says:

    They are as you say, a stubborn flower. I see them in the Spring popping out of weeds that never seem to make a difference in their blooming. Enjoyed your poem.

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